Tangled Up In The Mainline
by shellyduran
Summary: After losing her scholarship, Bella returns home to Block Island for the busy tourist season, hoping to raise enough money to pay her tuition. She had always listened to her father's warning about the transient fishermen that drift in and out of the port, until she saw a pair of intense green eyes watching her from under unruly bronze hair. AH, AU, ExB
1. Chapter 1- The Smell of Money

**Beta- the lovely and talented StacyO72- go beg her for a copy of her epic romance Still In Your Heart. It doesn't matter if you don't like Duran Duran or you have no idea who John Taylor is. Just read it and try not to fall in love. **

**Big thank you to PagingDrC for pre-reading and encouraging me to post this! **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**.

_A/N Even though I have two neglected Duran Duran WIP's and it's the middle of tax season, I can't get this idea out of my head. I'm not sure how long it will be or how exactly this story will unfold. This is my first Twilight FF and after DD FF, it's like going from Little League up to the Majors so go easy on me. The story is planned to be BPOV in the beginning, but Edward will share his thoughts with us at some point. Also, fair warning, I plan to update once a week but I am a sloooowwww writer. _

_FYI – there is no commercial fishing port on Block Island. I moved a few things on the mainland over to BI for the sake of the story. If you ever get the chance to visit BI, do it. It's the best of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, without the pretense. In case you were wondering I am not from BI although I am from Rhode Island, which isn't an island, it's a state and no, it's not part of New York, we get a little sensitive about that. _

_I did work in a commercial fishing port for a very long time. If you don't like to read about fish being killed, this probably isn't the story for you. Here's my PSA- support your local seafood suppliers, know your source for fish and seafood. American Fishermen abide by a red-taped network of government regulations and restrictions that would give even seasoned attorneys migraines. They are at a huge disadvantage when competing against cheaper imports from countries that allow or ignore overfishing and environmentally damaging practices. If you want a glimpse of the Longliner life, watch Discovery Channel's show, __Swords, Life on the Line__. Yes, I did know a few of those guys at one time although I've never had the opportunity to meet the legendary Linda Greenlaw. Speaking of Linda, you can also watch __The Perfect Storm__ but that movie has the most awful, hokey lines. The book was much better. Linda herself has written a few books about commercial fishing. I read her first, __The Hungry Ocean__ several years ago but haven't had a chance to read any of her others. O.k., now that I got that out of the way, on to Longlinerward._

Ch. 1. The Smell of Money

For most people, the smell of money means the smell of crisp dollar bills fresh from the ATM or a teller window. I worked at the bank- yes there's only one on the island- the summer after I graduated high school. I disliked counting the newly inked paper bills because they were stiff and hard to separate without a dab of Sortquik on your finger. But the smell, the smell was clean and fresh and full of promise. I loved that smell.

However, down here, in the port, the smell of money is defined very differently. It's the tang of ocean salt clinging to scale covered flesh. It's the musky, slightly stale scent that surrounds cold boxes of squid frozen on board just after a good haul. Most importantly; it's the smell of freshly caught seafood packed in ice and ready to ship to market.

Here, fish equals money.

In decades past, it was easy money, flowing into the port like the tide, nets hauled back full of cod, fluke, mackerel and whiting in the cold months, then in the summer it was the sportfish- tuna, sword, and even shark, hung up to pose with their proud hunters, ready to collect their tournament prizes. I have a vague recollection of those glory days, which ended just a few years after I was born.

The cod stocks crashed first, sometime in the 80's, due to a combination of increasingly efficient catch methods and "plain greed and stupidity", as my dad would say. The government got involved, doing everything they could to get the stocks to recover, controlling what, when, how, and where you could catch and generally creating a roadmap of bureaucratic regulations that even a Rhodes Scholar couldn't understand. Fishermen got creative, finding new markets for previously discarded "garbage" fish- skate, monk, even the hated dogfish, but the government regulations were soon imposed on each new fishery, forcing many to abandon the only work they had ever known. Men who had gone to work as deckhands at fourteen, risen to captain, bought their own boats, raised and provided for their families were suddenly facing hard times. Who was going to hire a fifty year old guy with an eighth grade education and no work experience outside fishing?

My dad, Charlie Swan, was once a full-time fisherman. He owned a 55 ft. western rig otter trawler, F/V Isabella Marie, which cost more than our modest house. He did o.k. at first but with my mom leaving and taking her second income with her, then the regs getting even tighter (restricting squid, monk, and butters mostly because of by-catch: other species of fish, especially those identified as "overfished" like scup or porgies, that are accidentally caught with the targeted fish), expensive insurance, and finally skyrocketing fuel costs, it all just got to be too much. He sold the boat and became a police officer for the Town of New Shoreham, eventually becoming the chief of its year round four man force (himself included).

It should seem obvious, but in the smallest town in the smallest state in the country, there's not much crime. There's the occasional traffic accident, usually caused by some idiot who's never rented a moped before, or maybe a squabble at the public boat ramp about right of way, or most frequently, a drunk and disorderly call at The Black Wolf when a crew comes in to celebrate a good haul and gets a bit too rowdy. So, Charlie kept his fishing licenses and eventually bought a small 25 ft. lobster boat, the F/V Black Swan, with his friend Billy Black. They fished part-time, choosing to go out only in good weather because they knew they didn't need to go in bad. They no longer depended on fishing as their sole source of income.

They landed lobster, scup, when that fishery was open, and anything else that could be trapped in a pot. Charlie did the actual fishing because Billy couldn't walk. He had been confined to a wheelchair since his old boat, the F/V Rachel and Rebecca, had sunk in a sudden storm about sixty miles offshore. He was hit across the back by an outrigger that broke and came crashing down on deck. Outriggers are the two large metal poles, roughly the size and shape of telephone poles that fold outward from the sides of the boat. Each has a heavy metal stabilizer, commonly known as a "bird" because it looks somewhat like a bird in flight from far away. Once a vessel leaves port, the outriggers are lowered so that the stabilizers are below the waterline, which helps to stop the boat from rocking and rolling so much. Billy was found floating in the water by a Coast Guard helicopter team. It's a miracle he survived at all.

"Bella, I need you to get a landing license." I turned at the sound of my name to see Mike Newton, the plant manager for Newton's Wholesale Fish walking toward me. I automatically glanced at the clock on the wall behind him and sighed. The state government required all vessels to have a crewmember, usually the captain, with a valid license to land fish. It was a bit bogus because the license should be assigned to the vessel, not a person. Every time the crew changed, a new license was needed. At $400-600 per license, it was yet another way to bleed fishermen dry. However, without a person on board with a valid license, the Environmental Police, Fisheries Enforcement Officers disparagingly known as crab cops in the seafood industry, had the right to seize the vessel's entire catch. The catch would then be sold at auction, and all the proceeds kept by the Fisheries Department as part of the fine for not having a licensed crewmember. To add insult to injury, the Fisheries Office was in the capital city of Providence; nowhere near any of the state's commercial fishing ports. If I had to go up to the city for a license, my whole day would be shot.

"Mike, can't anyone else go?" I asked, not hiding the annoyed tone in my voice.

Mike shook his head, his gelled blonde spikes standing absolutely still despite the movement. He tried to give me a puppy dog look, but really, that only works if you have brown eyes like me, not blue. "Bella, I wish I could do it but I need to get ready for this boat. The ice machine keeps clogging and I need Ben and Eric to make boxes. You know my dad gets lost every time we send him to the city and I need to get the license today. We've got a sword boat coming in and they need to offload as soon as possible."

I tried not to roll my eyes when Mike mentioned his dad getting lost. Yeah, last time he got "lost", he managed to charge $400 on the corporate credit card at the Foxy Lady. However, Mike did catch my attention with the last part of his plea.

"A longliner?" I asked.

"Yep." Mike shook his head excitedly, again the hair didn't move, not one millimeter.

"From where?"

"Outer Banks."

"Why are they coming here?"

"Broke down."

"Tally?"

"Right here." Mike pulled a small notepad from the back pocket of his jeans and tossed it on my desk. The paper was stained with fish juice, which I carefully avoided as I took a quick inventory- a decent mix of sword, bigeye, and yellowfin, some albies, escolar, plus a few mahi and…

"A Bluefin?" I looked up at Mike with one eyebrow raised. Strict quotas meant commercial longliners were allowed only one Bluefin tuna per trip when fishing in U.S. waters.

"Yep."

"What boat is this?"

"The Vampress."

"Never heard of it; do they know what they're doing?"

"Volterra owns it. It's the sister vessel to the Predator. They bought it last year, completely refurbished, all new Furuno electronics, new generator, new pumps, she sounds beautiful." Mike almost sighed in reverence.

I knew the Predator. She was an 85 foot longliner out of Gloucester, where Volterra Seafood was headquartered. Her captain was an arrogant s.o.b. but he knew how to catch fish. Anyone that worked for Volterra had better, or they'd be out on their ass pretty fast. Volterra controlled most of the longline fleet in the Northeast so the Newtons kissed their asses whenever they could, eager to get a piece of their business. One thing for sure, if the Vampress was a Volterra boat, then they knew how to properly handle a giant Bluefin tuna. A Bluefin meant money, possibly big, big money but if the fish was allowed to stay on the line too long it could "overheat", damaging the fish's tissues and comprising the quality. It happened often with sport fishermen who were so caught up in the battle with the tuna that they neglected to think about how it would affect the price. An experienced longliner wouldn't make that mistake. A 500 lb. prime Bluefin with good color and good bloodlines was worth at least $12,000.00 wholesale. The fish house used a profit margin of thirty percent, which meant Newton's would make about $3,600.00 for that one fish. Mike must be ready to jizz in his pants.

I sighed again. If I hustled, I could make the 10 am ferry, get over to the mainland by 11, and then be up at the Fisheries Office by 12. If there was no line, I could be back on the road by 12:30, and hopefully back here before 3 pm. Like I said, the whole day would be shot, but getting the chance at a lucrative trip was worth it.

"O.K., I'll go but I need your Suburban and you need to tell all the day boats guys that their checks won't be ready before noon tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2- Off Island

_A/N: First, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I hope I don't lose you with this next chapter! Part of it focuses on information about fisheries management. I promise this story really is about Bella and Edward and we will get to the romance/angst with a little dash of humor, very, very soon. Even though I'm afraid some may find this next chapter boring, it's necessary to the story for me to explain this stuff. I tried to present it in a way that is hopefully still entertaining. I swear this will be the only chapter with so much extraneous information. The opinions Bella expresses in this chapter are her own. She formed her point of view as the daughter of a commercial fisherman and a lifetime resident of a community that depends on fishing for its survival. Therefore, she's not supposed to be objective about controversial topics like by-catch, discards, and stock recovery rates. Those issues are very complex and not as black and white as Bella describes them. Bella's opinions are common among those in the commercial fishing communities and her thoughts are arguments I've heard over the years. _

**Beta- StacyO72 in all her fabulosity, yeah, I made that word up. The Magnum P.I reference is all for her. She loves that Tom Selleck 'stache. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**.

Ch. 2 Off Island

I managed to make it onboard the Carol Jean, park the Suburban on the car deck, and climb up to the open observation deck with five minutes to spare. I leaned against the railing and tilted my head back to enjoy the warmth of a beautiful summer day. The boat was fairly empty; most people would be travelling to the island on a Thursday, not off it. We had already passed the peak Fourth of July week, but the tourists would still to continue to crowd the island until Labor Day, six weeks from now. I waited until after the horn blew, signaling the ferry was pulling out, before I called my dad to let him know I'd be off island most of the day.

"What's up Bells?" He asked, answering after the first ring.

I quickly explained the situation with the longliner and the need for the license, cringing slightly as I waited for his all too predictable response.

"Longliner? That's great, just great. Damn sea gypsies pulling into port just in time to get hammered for the weekend. No way am I giving Riley the weekend off now. Maybe I should ask the state to send a few guys over." He sighed.

"Dad, it's a crew of four, I don't think you'll need to call in the reserves." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

While he might sound like he was responding to me as Chief Swan of the New Shoreham police department, I knew Charlie the fisherman was more than present in those remarks. Longliner deckhands had reputations that preceded them and they weren't well liked by the inshore guys. It was a well-established hierarchy in commercial fishing. Draggers didn't get along with gillnetters, who didn't get along with lobstermen, and they all hated longliners. You'd think with all the adversity they faced from the government and environmental groups, they'd have learned to put their differences aside and work together, but no. They just acted like a bunch of old fishwives.

"Bells, you never know with people like that. You just watch yourself and keep your distance. Be very careful tonight if they show up at the Wolf. Make sure you have your pepper spray."

I smiled to myself. Here comes the overprotective father. I could picture his mustache twitching in irritation. Yeah, my dad had a mustache, an 80's style Tom Selleck Magnum P.I. 'stache. Suffice it to say guys on the island weren't exactly up to date on the latest fashion trends.

"Yes Daddy..." I enunciated each word slowly and loudly. If my eyes could roll any more, I'd be staring at my brain. He made some hrrmph sound before launching into a sermon about transient crewmembers, drunk and disorderly behavior, and the dangers they caused. I felt bad so I cut him short and apologized because really, it wasn't that I didn't agree with him. In fact, I was in complete agreement. Longliner crews were a different breed from the guys I grew up with. They were nomads with no ties and few morals, who lived off the grid. Their vessels traversed the Atlantic coast year round, following schools of tuna and swordfish as they migrated from Canada down to the Caribbean. They fished for two weeks to a month at a time, landed their catch, partied hard for a few days, then went right back out again. The crews made good money yet despite this, they were always broke and always in trouble. The last thing I needed was to get involved with some druggie deckhand who drifted into port for the weekend.

It was Charlie's day off so I made sure to ask if he was out either hauling or setting traps with Billy. I liked knowing where they were and when they'd be back in. He answered my questions and promised he'd be home in time for dinner before we ended the call.

"Captain Dan and Forrest out fishing?" I turned to see Billy's son Jacob smirking at me.

I couldn't help but smile back as images from the movie floated through my head.

"You know they hate it when you call them that." I replied.

"They can't hear me; they're over by Settler's Cove." Jake indicated the far side of the tear shaped island with a jut of his chin.

I gave him that "sure they can't" look before I took a step back and gave Jake a good once over.

"I have to say Jake, the uniform suits you."

In addition to working with me at The Black Wolf, Jake had recently been hired as an engineer aboard the ferry. I motioned for him to give me a little twirl, which he obliged showing off his backside encased in form-fitting khaki shorts. The standard issue navy polo shirt hugged his muscled chest and arms just the right way. Jake had the perfect swimmer's body, not an ounce of fat anywhere. I wasn't interested in Jake. My feelings were completely platonic. Jake and his twin sisters, Rachel and Rebecca had lived just down the road from us and we all grew up together. While I would always think of him as a little brother, I couldn't deny that at nineteen, Jake had filled out nicely. He was deeply tanned, with almost jet black hair and deep brown eyes which crinkled at the corners as he gave me a cocky grin.

"The ladies on board seem to like it."

Jake wiggled his fingers in a little wave towards a group of co-eds nearby who all smiled and waved back. I shook my head. Jake had always been a huge flirt.

"I'm sure they do. Will we be seeing them at the Wolf tonight?"

"Only the good-looking ones."

I laughed as I playfully shoved his shoulder. He was such a dog.

"So, Bella, aren't you supposed to be at work? What's with going off island?"

I explained about needing the license for a new boat. His ears perked up immediately.

"Hey, do you think they'll need a diver? Make sure you give them my name." Sometimes ropes got tangled up in the propellers and boats needed scuba divers to go below and cut them loose. Jake was certified and had been freelancing since we were in high school. It was a quick way for him to make an extra hundred bucks.

I promised I would just as I heard a nasally voice exclaim "Oh Bella, Jake! I haven't seen you since I got back from my vacation in Europe!"

I turned to see Lauren Mallory walking over, her hand firmly clasped in that of a very blond Ivy Leaguer who looked like he walked off the pages of a J. Crew catalog from 1985. He was dressed in madras shorts, a peach polo shirt with the collar actually turned up, and topsiders. Lauren herself looked exactly as she did in high school- her blonde hair cut in a perfect bob, her nails French manicured, her clothes preppy and expensive.

In typical Lauren fashion, she wasted no time and launched into a recollection of her trip to the "Continent", yes she used that word. Lauren's parents owned the Mallory Arms, the most pretentious hotel on the island. It catered to an exclusive clientele of wealthy families. In addition, they owned several smaller bed and breakfasts, as well as a tacky gift shop, which was where they had originally made their money. Her family was one of the few on the island that didn't rely on fishing in any part for their source of income and Lauren never lost an opportunity to remind the rest of us of that. Other than her, I didn't know a single person our age who could afford a trip to "the Continent". After talking about herself for a good five minutes, she finally took a breath "Oh, I forgot introduce you to Freddie, my boyfriend. Freddie, this is Bella Swan and Jacob Black."

Freddie shook our hands politely. We stood there in awkward silence until Jake spoke up. "So Freddie, do you go to Brown with Lauren?"

"Yes." Freddie nodded and smiled slightly but didn't try to further the conversation at all.

O.k….. Besides his classic preppy good looks, I could see the attraction for Lauren. She could talk to her heart's content.

Jake took the initiative "I'm planning on attending the Coast Guard Academy next year. I am hoping to become a rescue diver."

Freddie nodded again, "That's very admirable of you."

Jake smiled "Yeah, I hope to make a difference for someone someday. Although Bella here is the one who will change lives. She is going solve all the world's fisheries problems."

Freddie glanced at me, apparently unimpressed. ""Oh, and how's that?"

Jake spoke before I had a chance. "Bella is double majoring in marine biology and fisheries economics at the University Of Rhode Island School Of Oceanography. She's going to change NMFS from the inside by making sure they use good science and working with fishermen for their input, instead of treating them like the enemy."

I felt myself blushing at Jake's praise. I knew my dad and Billy were proud of my chosen career path but I had never heard Jake say so much about it.

Freddie scrunched his eyebrows. "Nymphs?"

I tried to give a light laugh but it sounded a little hollow. "Jake meant the National Marine Fisheries Service- N.M.F.S. It's pronounced 'nymphs'. I still have two more years left before I complete my studies. After that, I plan to work as either an observer or a statistician for NMFS while I work towards a doctorate."

"I see." Freddie replied, looking a bit more attentive. However, there was a gleam in his eye that immediately put me on edge. "So you're saying that our Federal tax dollars are being used to promote bad science right now? How exactly is science bad?"

Here we go. I cringed inwardly, really not wanting to get into a debate about overfishing and sustainability on the 10 am ferry. However, one glance at Jake, who was eagerly awaiting my reply, and I knew I couldn't back down and disappoint him.

"Well, everything- all the quotas and regulations that NMFS sets are based on their estimates of stock assessments, how many fish there are." I began to explain. "It is literally impossible to count every fish in the sea so they take surveys in order to come up with a best guess. A lot of fishermen are critical of how these surveys are done. They call it bad science, because many of the scientists employed by NMFS have no practical fishing experience and don't know how to find fish to properly document the size of stocks."

"How hard can it be?" Lauren interrupted; her tone bored and haughty. "Don't they just have to cast their nets at whatever fishing ground everyone uses?"

I tried to smile again but I could feel it was more of a grimace. It amazed me that someone who lived on the island her entire life could be so ignorant.

"It's not quite that simple." Jake's voice smoothly cut in and I gave him a grateful glance. He had much better people skills than I did. I just wanted to bop her on the head and tell her she was an idiot.

He continued using a calm, persuasive tone, "I'll give you an example right from our own state fisheries department. Once a year, they take a survey of the local species by trawling in the exact same spot. This survey is used to establish state quotas for all the groundfish species, you know, cod, haddock, flounder, as well as scup, sea bass, basically anything a trawler would catch. Well, local fishermen have argued for years that the survey is flawed because the place where they trawl isn't a feeding ground. Fish aren't attracted to that spot in the first place, so the stocks are being underestimated, right Bells?"

I swear I was so proud of Jake at that moment I could almost kiss him, in a completely mama bear kind of way, of course. I cleared my throat. "Yes exactly. Then there's also the issue of how they're fishing. One of the local fishermen happened to observe a NMFS survey a few years ago and saw that they were setting the nets at the wrong depth. Certain species swim at certain depths. For example, pelagics like mackerel swim at the top of the ocean, groundfish, obviously, at the bottom and then other species sort of drift in between. If you're fishing for scup, which live at levels between six and one hundred and twenty feet, than you can't trawl the net at a depth of two hundred feet and expect to catch any." I  
turned my attention back to Freddie. "That's what we mean by bad science."

He nodded, but I could practically see the gears shifting in his brain as he contemplated what we had said. "Well, then why don't they just have the fishermen do the work in the surveys with the scientists observing?

Good question, I thought as I responded. "Politics. The relationship between NMFS and commercial fishermen is contentious. They set each other up as the enemy rather than working towards their common goal of creating sustainable fisheries. Some fishermen even believe that NMFS is purposely underestimating stock sizes and then placing unfair limits on fishing to appease the environmental groups. The more extreme groups want stocks to grow to levels not seen since the nineteenth century, which is completely unrealistic, even under the best conditions."

"So, this is all the government's fault then. If fishermen were allowed to just catch whatever they wanted, there'd still be plenty of fish in the sea?"

I sighed, "No, they are both to blame to a certain degree. Back in the seventies and eighties, the government actually encouraged fisherman to build bigger boats, giving them cheap loans, and helping to create more efficient ways of catching fish. Then, the fishermen got greedy, just catching more and more until stocks started to collapse. I'm not saying every fisherman out there is a saint. There are 'pirates' out there, guys that purposely break the rules. However, most want healthy stocks just at a reasonable rate of recovery based on good data. These guys did nothing but work hard at the most dangerous occupation in the country. They didn't swindle people, or cause the stock market to collapse. When the government put on the brakes, they went too hard the other way, which wasn't right. They put a stranglehold on commercial fishing but there's no Wall Street style bail out for fishermen and that's just wrong."

Freddie shuffled uncomfortably when I mentioned the bail out. Yeah, I bet daddy is a hedge fund manager, isn't he?

"Well, heh, you are very passionate about your studies. It's been very informative." Freddie looked at Lauren who took the hint.

"Freddie, I'm really thirsty, let's go to the snack bar. It was great seeing you both." They said goodbye and quickly made their way inside the vessel.

After they left, Jake looked at me and smirked. "No Wall Street style bailout?"

"Hey, it hit home didn't it? I took a chance he wouldn't know about the federal buyback programs. Besides, there hasn't been a decent buyback program in years and even when there was, it was nothing like what those investment firms got." Jake just shook and head and laughed as he walked away. He returned below deck and I spent the rest of the ride just enjoying the sun and the ocean breeze. Some mornings, the fog would obscure everything but today was bright and clear and I could already see the mainland just twelve miles ahead.

My thoughts drifted back to Lauren and Freddie and how easy they both had it. Their parents could afford to send them to Brown and they never had to worry about to pay the tuition. Up until this year, I had been fortunate to have a scholarship through the New England Fisherman's Scholarship Program but for the first time ever, the money had run out. Those of us who depended on the program to pay for college were suddenly scrambling to find a way to stay in school. My hope was that we had a good season and I could make enough money between the fish house and the bar to cover my tuition at the University of Rhode Island in the fall.

The whistle blew again, interrupting my thoughts, as the Carol Jean approached the ferry dock on the mainland. The forty-five minutes had flown by and I hoped the rest of the day would go as smoothly. I returned to the Suburban to wait my turn to exit. Once I was finally off the boat, I drove towards the main road. A familiar dark green vehicle waiting to board the ferry caught my eye and I couldn't help but groan as the bright yellow "Environmental Police" lettering came into view. Crab cops, just what we needed. I hit speed dial on my cell.

"Newton's Fish."

"Mike, it's Bella. When is the Vampress due in?"

"She's about two hours out, why?"

"Looks like the crab cops were paying attention to the VMS this morning. There's two headed out on the next ferry. "

Mike groaned just as I had. "Damn it! Could you see the dollar signs in their eyes? Alright, thanks for the heads up. I'll make sure nothing, not even a piece of chum, comes off that boat before you get back with that license."

I ended the call with Mike just as I turned north onto Route One. We both agreed that the cops had been watching the VMS, the Vessel Monitoring System, the onboard satellite tracking system the Federal government required all commercial fishing vessels to install in order to legally fish. The system tracked the location of every vessel in the United States fleet at all times. It was used mostly to make sure no vessels were breaking the rules and fishing in closed areas. It could also be used in the event of an emergency to local a vessel offshore. However, on days like this, the local enforcement agency used it to see which vessels were headed into port. An out of state longline boat would be a prime target for enforcement officers. They would be crawling over that boat like ants at a picnic to see if they could seize what they knew could be a very lucrative catch.

The normal rules of search and seizure that Charlie had to follow as an officer of the law didn't apply to fisheries enforcement. Crab cops could enter a business or board a vessel without needing a warrant. They didn't even need to be in the same state. If a crab cop in Rhode Island suspected a boat was landing fish illegally in Connecticut, they could go there without needing the permission of Connecticut law enforcement and seize the vessel. They also carried guns and could arrest people as well. With such broad powers, it's not surprising they were completely hated by fishermen. Mike could not risk offloading any fish until the captain of that vessel was standing on deck with his landing license in hand. Everyone- the vessel crew and the fish house employees were now depending on me getting back as early as possible or else they might be working well past dinner time tonight. The boat had to be offloaded today so the fish could be sold tomorrow. All the wholesale markets and auctions were closed on Saturday so if the boat was offloaded on Friday, the catch couldn't be shipped until Sunday night for Monday's market.

Luckily, traffic going into the city was light. I pulled into the parking lot at the fisheries building and finally opened the envelope containing the license application, quickly glancing at the captain's name. I froze.

"Holy fucking crow! Carlisle Cullen!"

_A/N: So, Carlisle is the captain of the F/V Vampress. Any guesses who the other three crewmembers might be?;-) Now why is Bella so surprised? Hopefully I didn't lose anyone after that long exposition on the history of modern fisheries management. Yikes! But it will help to understand Bella's reaction to certain people, like those hated crab cops. _


	3. Chapter 3- High Liners and Low Lifes

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who told me they actually enjoyed all that fisheries information last chapter. I won't be nearly so detailed in the future so if there is some fishspeak or something else you don't get, please ask and I'll be happy to explain. I'm sure this story's slow start may have turned off some but things should start to pick up speed, especially after this chapter. I'm so thankful for all your reviews, and I'm excited to see what you all think of Carlisle, among others. If you have your pm's on, I promise a reply. Big shout out to Mandita 93 who correctly guessed about Carlisle. _

**Beta****- StacyO72; I'm her mini-me, which sounds better than saying she's my maxi-me. If I were 8 inches taller, we'd just be twins. No, she's not a giant, I'm just that short. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

_Wild boys never lose it  
Wild boys never chose this way  
Wild boys never close your eyes  
Wild boys always shine_

_- Wild Boys, Duran Duran _

Ch. 3 High Liners and Low Lifes

I had hit re-dial on my cell before I could even register the fact that I was doing so.

"Newton's Fish."

"Mike, why didn't you tell me Doc Cullen was the captain of the Vampress?!" My voice was a few octaves higher than normal.

Mike groaned. "Aw no! Not you too! Jess is already here acting like a total fangirl."

I heard Mike's longtime girlfriend Jessica in the background yelling excitedly. "Is that Bella?! I need to talk to her right now! Oh my God, give me that phone!"

I held the phone away as the sound of one being pulled from Mike's hands echoed through the line. I knew Mike's protests were in vain. When Jessica Stanley was determined to get something, she was a woman possessed.

A moment later, Jess was giggling loudly in my ear. "Oh my God, Bella! Can you believe it! THE Doc Cullen will be here in less than an hour! I swear I saw every episode of Wild Boys. Do you think he's that good-looking in person? He is so swoon-worthy. Oh. My. God. Do you think I could ask for his autograph? That's cool, right? I can't believe I'm going to meet Doc Cullen! I am so, so excited! What was it Mrs. Weinstein used to say? I'm plating; no, I'm plotting; no…. plotzing! That's it! I'm plotzing!"

Jess was practically hyperventilating. I took a deep breath just in sympathy for her. I certainly couldn't blame her for overreacting just a bit. It's not every day one of the stars of a television reality series arrives in our isolated little corner of the world. Doc Cullen had appeared on all four seasons of Wild Boys: Highliners of the Atlantic, a show about the top fishermen on the East Coast. We had both been so disappointed when it was cancelled last year. As much as I hated to admit it, I was probably only one step behind her in the fangirl department. That was my secret though, so I tried to play it cool, teasing her about quoting our fifth grade teacher. "Damn, Jess. I don't think I've ever heard a Swamp Yankee speak Yiddish before. I'm sure he's probably no different than every other captain on the water."

"Isabella Swan! I have known you since we were in diapers, don't think you can fool me with that act! You were just a big of fan of Wild Boys as I was! Come on! Don't you just want to scream?! It's Doc Cullen!"

She had me. It was my turn to giggle like a schoolgirl and that's something I never did. "O.k., maybe I'm just a little excited. Oh my God! Do you remember that episode when the entire crew couldn't haul up that triple marker during fifteen foot swells and Doc goes over and pulls it up with a single gaff? That was so awesome!"

Jess sighed, her voice taking on a dreamy tone. "I know, right? He is so hot… Oh! Did you see the episode about the twentieth anniversary of the Perfect Storm? It was so touching. When he talked about being out there as a young deckhand on the Hannah Boden, knowing that its sister ship was gone. Then, when he said that line about how the storm caused him to lose someone back on shore too? He looked so sad, like he lost the love of his life." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before she whispered into the phone. "I don't care if he is almost as old as my dad, I would so do him."

Apparently, she didn't whisper softly enough because I could hear Mike's indignant voice behind her.

"What?! What are you talking about? No way are you staying here during the pack out. You're supposed to be working at the supply store today anyway. And where is Bella? She doesn't have time to stand there and listen to you gush about Doc Cullen."

He was right. I should already be inside the Fisheries Office. I quickly exited the truck as Jess tried to reassure Mike that she was only speaking theoretically, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"Jess, tell Mike I'm already in line for the license, o.k.? I gotta go."

I hit end before she could relay the message. I found myself humming Duran Duran's Wild Boys, the show's theme song, as I headed inside the large brick converted mill building that housed the Fisheries Office.

Getting the license itself was quick and easy. I was back on the road headed south in just fifteen minutes. I might be able to catch the 1pm ferry and get back to the fish house a whole hour earlier than planned. I decided to forgo stopping to top off the tank on the gas guzzling Suburban. With an out of state boat at the dock I was sure someone would need to go off island again so they could fill up. However, I made sure to stop at Dunkin' Donuts and get myself a large ice coffee and a sesame bagel. I had my priorities. I was a little concerned about hitting beach traffic once I got back into South County but the force was with me or some shit, because I sailed through the lights on Route 4 then made it through after only two light changes at the Tower on Route 1. I called Jake as soon as I got into Narragansett and asked him to make sure they kept a space open for me on the car deck. Visitors with cars had to make a reservation several weeks ahead of time, not only to board the ferry, but to actually be allowed to have a car on the island. The Block was only ten square miles so when the population tripled in the summer from one thousand to three thousand residents plus another five or six thousand day trippers on top of that, vehicle access had to be limited. Most people got around on rented mopeds or bicycles. As a year round resident, I had a permanent ferry pass so I didn't need a reservation, just a quick call to keep a spot open. Sometimes it was good to be a local.

Less than an hour later, I pulled into the company parking space in front of Newton's with only a slight glance toward the dark green Environmental Police SUV parked directly in front of the building.

"Assholes." I muttered as I exited the vehicle. It was better to get the hostility out of my system now. I would have to be polite, or at least indifferent, once I was inside.

I had already texted Mike, so I knew they were expecting me. Rather than enter through the office, I walked behind the building, directly to the bulkhead. I could see Mike standing on the dock with his dad, a few of Newton's dock workers, and the crab cops. The rest of our employees were already positioned at their assigned stations: forklifts, scale, and packing area. Everyone wore their bright orange Grunden's oil gear and looked ready to go. The Vampress was tied up alongside and damn, if she wasn't pretty for a commercial boat: no rust stained scuppers, no chipped paint, decks scrubbed clean and shiny. Her steel hull was painted a deep navy blue with F/V Vampress printed in white letters on either side of a large white crest with VS, for Volterra Seafood, in red, directly over the bow. The wheelhouse was a bright white with navy trim to match the hull. As I walked closer I could see the unmistakable blond hair of Doc Cullen as he stood on deck, with a crew member behind him. I assumed the other two were already waiting below in the hold, ready to start the packout. My stomach felt like it was tied in knots. Carlisle "Doc" Cullen was actually at our dock. I took a deep breath to steady myself before I walked up and presented the landing license to Doc.

"I think you've been waiting for this, Captain." I heard myself say. I wanted to sound friendly and unflustered, not like a screechy fangirl fawning over a celebrity. Somehow, my brain didn't relay that message to the rest of my body and my voice ended up sounding breathy and deep, more like Lauren Bacall than I meant it to. Crap, he was going to think I was coming on to him. I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought and knew I needed to get off the dock before I made a complete fool of myself.

Doc flashed me a heart-throb smile as he thanked me, his cobalt blue eyes raking over me from top to bottom and back up. I may have uttered a small gasp. I really hoped it wasn't audible. Good Lord, he was probably the most handsome fisherman I had ever seen. Most guys here were considered passable if they had all their teeth and fingers. Doc looked like Brad Pitt's better looking brother. He signed the license, gave it to the crab cops, along with the boat's federal fishing permits, the captain's logbook, and the VMS records. After a few minutes of inspection, the crab cops finally agreed everything was legal so the offload could begin. I practically ran back inside the office where Jessica and now Mike's mom were watching the whole process, each with a pair of binoculars. Since Mrs. Newton ran Block Island Marine Supply and Jess was her only employee, I assumed it was closed for the afternoon.

"Seriously?" I asked as I walked inside.

Jess scowled. "They're using the damn crab cops as an excuse to keep us off the plant floor, saying they could get in trouble for violating HACCP regulations if non employees are out there. That's total bullshit. They just don't want us drooling over Doc."

"That is one fine looking man!" Mrs. Newton didn't even lower her binoculars as she spoke. "What was he like up close Bella? We need deets."

Deets? Did Mrs. Newton really just say deets? This was getting awkward. Still, I caved and fangirled right along.

"I can't believe how good looking he is. His eyes are so blue and he gave me this look when he thanked me for the license. Oh my God! I swear my knees almost gave out."

Jess started waving her hands in front of her body. "Tell me exactly what he said, don't leave anything out."

"He said 'Thank You.'" I felt my face heat up again as I remembered the way he looked.

Mrs. Newton finally lowered her binoculars. She and Jess exchanged a look.

"How did he say it?"

I described my encounter in as much detail as possible for a ten second exchange. Mrs. Newton gasped. "He Rhett Butlered you?!"

I scrunched my nose in confusion. "He what?"

"You know, he looked at you in that Rhett Butler 'I know what you look like without your shimmy on' way." Mrs. Newton demonstrated by giving me her best come hither look. This was getting a bit creepy. I shook my head and laughed it off.

"My dad would have a conniption fit if he thought some sea gypsy his age, famous or not, was coming on to me. Besides, you both watched Wild Boys. I think that's the way Doc acts around all women. He just can't help being dazzling."

I left Jess and Mrs. Newton to their in-depth analysis and sat down at my desk, resuming the work I had left there this morning. Just as I had gotten back into a groove, the door from the plant opened and the crab cops walked in accompanied by Mike. I casually glanced up as Mike led the two crab cops through the common area that overlooked the plant floor. I recognized one of the cops, a pompous ass with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes. He liked to lord his authority over people. The other cop was new; a slim redhead who didn't fit the stereotype of a crab cop at all. She looked around in slight disdain, as if she were not used to such meager surroundings. As fish houses went, the place was decent. It was slightly shabby, with a faded wood floor, plain white walls, and four inexpensive faux wood desks, three of which were topped by outdated computers. My desk was at the opposite end of the office, closest to the glass front door. I could see most of the parking lot through it. Behind me, a window provided a view of the bulkhead looking across to the ferry dock, my million dollar view. Posters featuring different species of fish common to the waters of the northwest Atlantic covered the wall nearest my desk. There was always a lingering smell of fish inside the building, it clung to the walls and permeated the air. None of us minded, in fact after a few minutes, no one noticed the odor. The three of them strode over to me.

"Bella, you remember Officer James Cox and this is Officer Victoria Small. They asked to see our wholesale license."

"Uh, sure." I leaned back and pulled the license down from the bulletin board. "Here you go, Officers Small, Cox." I saw Mike's lip twitch ever so slightly. It took me a second, but then I realized what I said. Damn, I had stepped right into that one. I felt myself blush and quickly tried to change my line of thought.

"Is Officer Smith on vacation?"

"Actually, Pat retired. Officer Small will be taking her place." Cox answered. His eyes cut over to the other cop and for just a second, I saw a lecherous look in his eye. Yeah, I'm sure he was thrilled. Pat Smith was in her late fifties. She was built like a linebacker and was about as feminine as my dad, maybe less so. Officer Small was young and attractive. She nodded slightly as I welcomed her to Newton's. Cox's gaze returned to the license in his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be in order here so we'll be on our way."

Mike's eyes met mine. Of course it was in order, nothing had changed from last week, which was the last time Cox had checked our license. They left a few minutes later, if not they would have missed the 3 pm ferry back to the mainland. Most state employees got off work at 4 pm and there was no way they'd work past the end of their shift.

The next hour flew by. I heard the fax ring and went over to pick up the single page that came through. It was an authorization from Volterra Seafood for crew advances. Emmett McCarty was to get a check for $5,000 with instructions that Doc be given $2,000 and the other two crew members $1,000 each. I had just finished printing the check when I heard the plant door open. I looked up to see an enormous guy in orange Grunden's oilers over a t-shirt that said 'I got my crabs at Dirty Dick's'. He walked right up to my desk.

"Hey, I'm Emmett. You got my advance?"

_A/N I know, I know, no bronze-haired fisherman. I swear he is in the next chapter. He was just busy down in the fish hold for this one. _

_ How many have seen that episode of Oprah from the Eclipse premiere when she sends Rob to a teenage girl's house for a surprise visit? The mom in that one is my inspiration for Mrs. Newton. She's the one who blurts out "You're so hot!" when Rob walks in to visit her daughter. I die laughing whenever I see it. I could see myself saying it, because, damn he IS hot. _


	4. Chapter 4- Sea Gypsies

**Beta- StacyO72 – lascivious is one of her favorite words. That and lave, but we're **

** not ready for that type of L word just yet. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**.

**_I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;  
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,  
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. _**

**From Sea Fever by John Masefield**

_A/N One thing that confuses me in Twifics is that Jasper usually has a Texas accent yet Emmett doesn't ever a Tennessee accent. Stuff like this makes the OCD part of me nuts. According to canon, he is from Gatlinburg. I had quite a few friends from East Tennessee when I was in college and they all had thick accents that sounded so melodic compared to my harsh New England voice. We used to joke that when we first met, as part of a study abroad program, they couldn't understand me at all. I was the only Yankee in a group of Dixie chicks. By the time I came home I had a twang I picked up from them. So, in this story, Emmett has an East Tennessee/ North Carolina accent and Jasper has a Texas accent. _

_ I fiddled around with the story banner, the first one was thrown together really quick just to have something to go with the story. Version 2.0 is much better. _

_In case anyone was curious, I posted links to pictures of Block Island on my profile. _

_There is also a link for Emmett's Dirty Dick's t-shirt. Dirty Dick's is real. I went last year when we vacationed in OBX. . I don't have a shirt, I have a cup, it came with my margarita._

_Lastly, as I type this, the Boston Marathon tragedy lies heavily on my mind. I live slightly over an hour south of that city. For me. as with many other New Englanders, Boston is inextricably tied to my life: I've worked there, I've got friends and family there, I've spent many happy days and nights in the city. Currently, one suspect is dead and there is a massive manhunt for the other. My prayers and thoughts are with the families and victims of the Marathon bombings and the officers who have died in the line of duty. _

Ch 4. Sea Gypsies

I stared up at Emmett McCarty like I had never met another human being before this moment. He had to be the most well-built fisherman I had ever seen. The muscles on his arms bulged as he leaned forward and pressed his hands on my desk. What did he do, bench press the swords and tuna? My eyes automatically shot down to where his hands spread out and I immediately counted off ten fingers in my head. Commercial fishing wasn't just the most dangerous profession in America because of mortality rates. Almost everyone who had worked in it for a while had been marked. For some, it was scars, like the one Charlie had on his thumb from where he'd almost severed it. Others were not so lucky and actually lost body parts- usually fingers, sometimes ears, or even an eye. I looked up to see him flash a grin full of shiny white teeth. He looked to be a few years older than me, maybe mid-twenties. He had dark curly hair, cut short, twinkling mischievous eyes and deep dimples on each side of his face. He wasn't quite in the same category as Doc, but damn, he was still pretty hot.

He pointed at the check in front of me and asked in a flat country drawl "Is that for me?"

Before I could respond, the door opened again and a tall wiry guy dressed in a faded t-shirt and oilers walked towards us with determined steps. He looked more like what I expected. He wasn't unattractive. He had blond shaggy hair, blue eyes and a lean yet muscular frame. However, he had a long scar that stretched from just below his jaw to his clavicle. Tattoos covered his neck and arms and I had no doubt there were several more that I couldn't see. He stopped next to Emmett and I could see that the two middle fingers of his left hand were missing their tips. That was more like it.

He tilted his head slightly as we made eye contact. "Afternoon, miss. I was just curious as to what kind of advance we'd be getting."

His accent was deep, deep South. It was slow and warm and poured over me like a shot of Southern Comfort. I wouldn't be surprised if he was from the Gulf since quite a few of those guys had moved to other types of fishing after the BP oil disaster. He flashed his own grin and holy hell, he was actually really cute, scar or no scar. Who were these guys? I wondered if Doc was filming another reality series. No one had this many good-looking guys on one boat.

Before I could sort my thoughts and answer, Emmett McCarty spoke up. "Jasper, you're such a fucking doubting Thomas. It's right the fuck here, just like I said: one thousand each for you, me, and Richie. If it's gonna be such a big fucking problem all the time then I suggest you get yourself your own fucking ID so you can cash your own damn check." Emmett reached over and held up the fax to Jasper's face. "Now that you've verified that I wasn't fucking with you, I further suggest you get your skinny ass back down to the boat and finish packing out. Did you leave Richie in the hold by himself? You know that FNG can barely tell the difference between a big-eye and a yellowfin: fucking greener than the fucking grass after a spring rainstorm. I have no fucking clue what Doc was thinking hiring him."

Despite being a few inches shorter, Jasper got right in Emmett's face as he retorted with venom in his voice. "Emmett, you are such a fucking jackass. You know that fucker at Volterra changed the advance amount the last two times we were at port. I just wanted to see if he'd gone and done it again. The fucking greenie is just fine. Doc's got his eye on him and I'm going right back there. Besides, all the tuna except the albies are already out of the hold. As for my fucking advance, I didn't realize it was such a big fucking deal for you to go to the fucking bank. I'm sure Doc would be interested to know that his First Mate doesn't feel like doing his fucking job!"

I sighed. Yeah, they might have prettier faces and prettier accents, but underneath it all they were no different from every other fucking deckhand I had ever known.

"Oh, sorry miss, I didn't mean to cuss like that in front of lady." Jasper misunderstood what I was sighing about. It wasn't the swearing. It was the pecking at each other like old hens that drove me nuts. I swear there were days I felt more like a den mother than a bookkeeper.

"It's Bella." I replied. "Really, it's fine."

I knew my smile didn't reach my eyes. I could see Jess and Mrs. Newton watching the exchange with curiosity. Most of the time deckhands just barked at each other, but we all knew it was possible for an altercation to become physical. I wanted these two out of my office A.S.A.P. I turned back to the bigger guy.

"Look, Emmett, the bank closes in fifteen minutes. It's only right around the corner but I really don't have the time to re-do the check. We don't carry that much cash on hand so if you don't go now, none of you, including Doc, will have any money tonight."

That did the trick. There's nothing worse for a crewman than being in port for the first time in weeks and having to spend the night living like a monk. The Block was a party town in the summer, and they would want to take full advantage of the many hotels, bars, and girls available. I gave Emmett directions to First Colonial Trust and they both got the hell out.

"So Bella, what are the chances the other guy is just as hot?" I heard Jess ask me from across the room.

I laughed. "You tell me. You're the one with the binoculars."

"I can't tell. He's been in the hold the whole time."

"Is Doc on another show? Those two were too good-looking to be fishermen." Mrs. Newton echoed my own thoughts from a few moments before.

"Maybe it's some sort of dating show?" Jess suggested. "You know, where Doc gives them advice since he's older."

I snorted back a laugh. "Yeah right, like Doc Cullen is some sort of foster-father/matchmaker? I don't think so. Besides, they definitely act like deckhands. I was ready to reach for my pepper spray."

Charlie always made sure I had a can in my purse even though there hadn't been a violent crime on the island since the early nineties.

Mr. Newton came in the office, having sorted through the majority of the tuna, and he shooed Jess and Mrs. Newton out so he could call his customers. Mike's dad was one of the most respected and experienced tuna graders in the Northeast. He examined each fish the boat caught, checking them for color and fat content to determine where we should sell them. The best tuna would be served as sushi in restaurants all along the Northeast. At one time, Newton's actually exported fish to Japan and Mike's dad would travel to see his customers in Toyko's famous Tsukiji market at least once a year. He rarely bothered anymore since sushi was now so popular in U.S. We could make the same net profit on a fish sent to New York as we could spending the money to air freight it half way around the world.

I finished up my work and got ready to leave right at 4:30. The Vampress crew didn't return to the office, which was fine with me. I said goodbye to Mr. Newton and headed outside to where I had parked my bicycle. I kept a rusted old pick-up at home that I used for trips to the mainland for groceries and other necessities. I rarely drove on the island, there was just no point. I pulled up to the house in less than five minutes and was pleased to see my dad was already there. Our cottage was just the right size for two people. A good-sized kitchen and living room encompassed most of the first floor, in addition to another room that had once been a formal dining room but was now a den. The second floor had two bedrooms and the sole bathroom. It was cozy, if a bit cluttered.

"Hey Bells, I culled some bugs if you want to cook them." Charlie called out as I walked inside. He knew I didn't have a lot of time and the lobsters would cook quickly. Thursdays and Fridays were hellishly long. I worked a full day at the fish plant, then waitressed at The Black Wolf from six 'til closing. The lobsters he took home were both missing a claw, so wholesalers weren't interested in buying them. Lobsters were basically aggressive cannibalistic assholes who fought each other constantly so it wasn't uncommon to trap one that had battle scars. I suppose they weren't that much different from deckhands. I had grown up eating culled lobsters, or bugs as pretty much everyone I knew referred to them. I never felt bad about cooking them since, as Charlie always pointed out, if I were at the bottom of the ocean, they wouldn't hesitate to eat me. Still, at one point during junior high, I had gotten so sick of cooking lobster twice a week that I had refused to eat them anymore. Eventually, I came around because, hell, it's lobster.

Dinner was quick and simple: lobster and salad. Charlie and I exchanged all the gossip we had both heard about the new boat in port. I left out the part about the confrontation at my desk, winnowing the story down to a very concise "They're typical deckhands." I took a quick shower to get the fish smell off me and changed into the black t-shirt and black jeans that all the Wolf employees wore. A quick peck on the cheek for Dad and I was back on my bike and at the bar by six.

Billy Black owned the Black Wolf. It was a pretty nice place for what was essentially a fisherman's pub: dark wood antique bar and paneling, spacious booths along the walls, and even a small dance floor and stage beyond the tables. The place had been around as long as the fishing port itself. Billy had bought it with the money from his insurance settlement and had transformed it from the town dive to a respectable bar and grill. Unlike some places that attracted a strictly local crowd, and others that catered to mostly tourists, the Wolf was a mix of both. I walked in and waved hi to Jake, who was already behind bar and Jess, her parents, and the Newtons, who were having dinner in one of the booths. I headed to the kitchen and got ready for the busy Thursday night crowd.

"I hear you had a pretty exciting day. _The_ Doc Cullen and some pretty hot Dixie dicks in port?"

I smiled and looked over to see my best friend, Alice, arching one perfectly threaded eyebrow below her spiky black hair.

"'Dicks' is the key word there, Ally." I laughed. "Did Jess mention I already had to put up with them squabbling over advances."

Alice smirked. "Actually, it was Mrs. Newton who dished all the dirt. What's this about Doc Cullen flirting with you?"

I rolled my eyes but filled her in on the highlights before heading over my section. My greatest strength as a waitress was my ability to memorize orders. I never wrote anything down and hadn't made an error since my first summer on the job four years ago. My greatest weakness was that I'm a klutz with a habit of walking into door frames and tripping over my own feet. I tried to always be as graceful as possible when serving customers. I needed every dollar I could possible make and spilling food on customers wasn't the way to earn big tips.

The dinner crowd segued into the party crowd as the night wore on. Sometime after ten I saw Doc and his crew make their way over to one of the tables in the center of the room. I sighed with relief. They were sitting in Alice's section. I always felt a bit awkward when I had to wait on crews who packed out with Newton's. The regulars weren't a problem. They had known me and my dad all our lives, but the drifters were a different story. Some of them tended to see me differently just because I had served them a few beers. It wasn't so much a sexual thing as a sexist thing. I could handle being hit on. There's no way I could have worked in a bar this long otherwise. It was that somehow, my being a waitress diminished my authority in their eyes. That chauvinistic attitude brought out the bitch in me.

Almost as soon as Doc sat down, a group of fishermen called him over to the bar. Doc had already been a well-known and well-respected captain in New England before the reality show and was apparently friendly with some of the guys. With him gone, it was Jasper, Emmett and the greenhorn at the table. The new guy had his back to me so all I could see was dark hair over a set of broad shoulders. I was curious if he really would be as good-looking as his crewmates but I couldn't get a clear look at him. Thursdays was karaoke night so the place was packed with patrons drinking enough to summon up the courage to sing 'Don't Stop Believin'' or 'Livin' On a Prayer' to a room full of semi-strangers. About an hour later, I found myself covering for Alice while she took a quick bathroom break. I looked over at the Vampress crew's table. Carlisle was still up at the bar and a couple of the Russian workers from one of the hotels had joined the three deckhands. The bigger hotels used foreign students as seasonal employees so we had gotten used to hearing Russian and Irish accents around the island. I saw Emmett glance around for Alice.

I sighed and walked over to the table, making sure I faced the third deckhand when I stopped. As I greeted Emmett, I finally got my first eyeful. Half of me was convinced he'd be a troll while the other was hoping he'd be just as handsome as his co-workers. I was wrong on both counts. My eyes swept over his features in disbelief. The ceiling light just above him highlighted the red in his otherwise brown hair, giving it a soft bronze glow. It was thick and slight overgrown, like he should have gotten a haircut last week but hadn't gotten around to it. Soft full lips sat below a slightly crooked yet otherwise perfect nose. Long thick lashes framed jade green eyes. Chiseled cheek bones compelled my eyes south to a jawline that would make Michelangelo weep for joy, leading to a perfectly shaped masculine chin that begged to be licked. He was quite possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was seated between the two Russian girls, both blond and voluptuous and everything I wasn't, yet he looked utterly miserable. The three of them continued to ignore me while Emmett and Jasper made small talk before each asking for another beer. I shifted on my feet, suddenly aware of certain parts of me that had not gotten any attention in some time.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, Richie? Do you and the girls want another as well?"

Emmett and Jasper fell into a fit of laughter as the beautiful one fixed me with a vitriolic stare. Did I get his name wrong? I was sure they had called him Richie when they were arguing in my office. I began to stammer out an apology when Emmett interrupted me, laughing so hard he was practically wheezing.

"That's Ted. We …. call… him… Richie…because…."

He couldn't finish so Ted himself spoke up, his voice low and velvety despite being edged with animosity.

"They call me Richie Cunningham because I'm from Milwaukee and I've got sort of reddish hair." He continued to glare angrily at both Jasper and Emmett, who didn't seem to notice or care about his reaction.

"And…. 'cuz he's a greenie too, total virgin just like Richie Cunningham." Jasper leaned against Emmett's arm, gasping for breath between laughs.

"Wirgin?" One of the Russian girls spoke up, looking at Ted like he was something to eat. "You vant I take care of zat?" She asked in heavy accent as she leaned over to rub her hand over his shirt, her fingers spreading out so one lingered just below his Adam's apple.

The other blonde leaned in from her own side and stage whispered. "Tanya, he might have problem. Vhy else such a handsome man not have the sex?" She fingered his chin, turning it towards her, while giving him a sympathetic look. "I know good doctor in Ukraine, he fix problem."

I covered my mouth by holding my tray sideways as I tried not to laugh out loud. Still, my shoulders were shaking, I couldn't help it. Emmett and Jasper lost what little control they had. The slumped against each other, both literally crying from laughing so hard. I don't think I'd ever used the word "guffaw" in my life, but it was the only word I could think of to describe the two deckhands' loud, robust sounds.

Ted turned about ten shades of red as he shook the two girls off him. He ran his hand through his thick hair in an act of frustration as he huffed "That's not the kind of virgin they mean! I don't have a… I mean I'm not… … I just…I need to go." He stood up, his eyes dark as he shot us all daggers from them, grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the table and literally stalked out of the bar.

"Poor Richie…" Emmett gasped out as he wiped his eyes with his beefy hands.

The two Russians continued to look confused. "Wirgin mean no sex, yes?" One looked at me for an answer.

"No, not always; it also means someone has never done something before. In this case, he's never been fishing." I explained as I regained my composure.

"An FNG!" Jasper yelled, setting off Emmett again. The girls again looked at me.

"Fucking New Guy." I said without hesitation. I knew the expression deckhands up and down the coast used: _The FNG better not be NFG. _The fucking new guy better not be no fucking good. Crew members really weren't concerned about double negatives.

"A greenie that can't handle fishing usually won't last more than one or two trips." Emmett finally calmed down enough to talk. He put his arm around the shoulder of the blond closest to him. "C'mere Irina, you don't need to worry about any virgins or fix any problems tonight, baby."

I took that as my cue to get their drinks. The last thing I needed was to hear Emmett brag about his sexual prowess. Fortunately, Alice finished her break so she took their drinks over from the bar. I didn't need to go back there for the rest of the night. About thirty minutes before closing I saw my dad, in uniform, walk in with one of his deputies. I couldn't help but smile. Charlie wasn't due on his shift until dawn, but he just couldn't resist making sure everyone knew the island wasn't some lawless Old West style outpost. I swear sometimes the mustache went to his head and he thought he could channel Sam Elliot. Doc was still up at the bar, holding court with just about every fishermen on the island. They all sat there enthralled as stories were traded and yes, each one was more hyperbolic and embellished than the last. I watched Charlie introduce himself to Doc, the two sizing each other up as they shook hands. Doc must have noticed the scar on Charlie's thumb. Charlie glanced down, running his left index finger over it. I'm sure he was recalling the story I had heard a thousand times. A few years before I was born, he'd been a deckhand scallop fishing thirty miles south of Nantucket in the Lightship area. He wasn't green to fishing, but he was new to scalloping and made what some would call a "freshman mistake". I moved towards the bar and just as he made the familiar swiping gesture with his thumb.

"The shell had a limpet right at the top and I didn't even think about what I was doing as I passed my thumb over to remove it. I felt the pain before I saw the blood. It was such a clean cut, it took a few seconds for me to realize what happened. I tried to bend my thumb and realized I had no control of it. I touched it with my other hand and that's when I realized it was almost completely detached. Old Tom Wheeler was the mate, did you know him?"

Charlie looks over at Doc who nods. "I met him once or twice, quite a character."

Charlie nods back . "Yep. He saved my thumb, maybe even my life that day. I was only nineteen, first time that far from home, and I was bleeding everywhere. You'd think I'd be screaming but I just stood there in shock, staring at my hand. Tom filled a scallop bag with ice and helped me get my hand in it while the captain radioed the Coast Guard. There was a cutter nearby that came and brought me to Nantucket. I was damn lucky the surgeon at the hospital there knew what he was doing." Charlie wiggled his thumb to emphasize his point. "Got full range of motion."

Charlie's story didn't end there but I knew he wouldn't repeat the rest of it. He hadn't in years. The next morning, he had walked into a local café for breakfast and met Renee Higginbotham, my mom. She was between her freshman and sophomore years as an art major at Amherst College and had decided to go backpacking around New England with some of her friends, all of them young and carefree. Cupid's arrow struck hard and within days Renee had left Nantucket and her friends for Block Island and Charlie. She spent the rest of the summer there, completely enchanted by the funky, artsy little shops and laid back day tripper lifestyle that dominated the island's culture in those warm months. By September, she had dropped out of Amherst, much to the consternation of my Grandma Marie in Newton, and set up house with Charlie in a little cottage not far from the ferry dock. Once his thumb healed, Charlie fished year round on the local draggers, sometimes spending as much as two weeks at sea, returning for a few days before heading back out. The money was good then and he wanted to save up enough to buy his own boat as well as the cottage they were renting. My mom has since told me she wouldn't have stayed past that first long, desolate winter if she hadn't gotten pregnant. I know that sounds like a horrible thing to tell your child, but I don't blame her for leaving anymore. The island's split personality isn't for everyone, certainly not an energetic extrovert like my mom. She tried, spending the lonely cold season creating tourist friendly art to sell in the summers. She toughed it out for almost a decade before finally telling dad she'd had enough and was heading back to the mainland for good. I stayed. I'd visit her on school vacations in whatever warm climate she had moved to: California, Arizona, and now Florida.

Charlie's story was enough to bond him and Doc. Everyone else was eager to show their own scars and tell their own tales of near death accidents and dismemberments. I walked by just after serving the drinks for last call and heard my dad call my name. I knew he wanted to make sure Doc was aware that I was his daughter so the crew wouldn't give me any trouble. It wasn't necessary, I could handle myself but I indulged his overprotective tendencies.

"Doc, I think you met my daughter Bella earlier today?"

Doc smiled politely, the way one should went being introduced to the Police Chief's little girl. "Of course, I should thank you again for getting the license on such short notice. We really needed to get the fish out today."

"No problem, all part of the job." I replied, returning his tight smile with one of my own.

"Bella said you broke down. Anything major?" Charlie asked casually. I knew he was fishing to see how long they'd be in port.

"No, looks like it was just a leaking fuel pump. A couple of new hoses and some O rings and we'll be good to go. My engineer should have it all fixed by tomorrow afternoon if we can get the parts in by then. I'm planning on leaving with the high tide Saturday morning." Doc explained, looking back to Charlie.

Charlie nodded. We both knew they wouldn't leave tomorrow, no one starts a trip on a Friday, it's bad luck. I also personally had my doubts about Saturday. Most crew in on a weekend would look for any reason to stay through a Saturday night.

"You know it'll be quicker if you send someone over to the mainland to get the parts instead of having them shipped here." Charlie mentioned, hoping to ensure that Saturday morning ETD. I rolled my eyes, knowing what's coming next. "I'm sure Bella could set that up for you." Yep. There it was. Thanks, Dad.

Doc grinned lasciviously at me, turning just a bit so Charlie couldn't see his face. "I'd certainly appreciate any help, Bella."

I internally sighed, because wow, was he handsome and because I knew I'd probably have to go back to the mainland tomorrow. "If your engineer gives me a list, I can go over to Narragansett Engine and Marine and get the parts, or he if has a license, he can borrow the company truck and get them himself. They're located right next to the ferry dock in Galilee."

"Oh, we've already taken up too much of your time, Bella. If Emmett and Jasper can borrow that truck, I'm sure they'll find it themselves. But I do appreciate your willingness to help us with our needs."

Did I imagine it when Doc punctuated "_needs_" in such a way that it sounded pornographic? I glanced back at my dad who hadn't pulled his gun out so, yes, I must have imagined it. Damn, it was hot in here. I somehow managed to respond without sounding like a completely besotted fan before excusing myself to finish up so I could get home. While walking out, I saw Emmett and Jasper leaving with the slutty Russian girls. I couldn't help but smirk remembering Emmett's t-shirt from earlier. Dick's won't be the only place he gets his crabs. As usual, I threw my bike in the back of Jake's truck and caught a ride home with him. I waved as I crossed the street to my house and parked the bike on the porch. As much as I wanted to replay the events of the day in my head, I was too exhausted. Like Scarlett O'Hara, I would think about it all tomorrow.

_A/N Poor Wirgin, but why is he called Ted and why is he from Milwaukee? Shelly, I thought you were a canon geek? I am; perhaps Edward is hiding something….. Remember, I promised angst, it says it right in the summary. _

_I keep forgetting to say, come find me on Twitter: shelly_duran (2 underscores). Someone mentioned finding me more readers. That was so sweet! Thank you! Pimp me if you like what you're reading and send me a review! -)_


	5. Chapter 5- Grubbing Up

**Beta****- StacyO72- If she had to grub up, she'd do it at a WaWa.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is **

**intended. **

_A/N Here are the answers to a few questions that were asked: Bella, Edward, Alice, Mike, Jessica, Angela, Ben, and Eric are all 21. Those in school are between their junior/senior years of college/university. Carlisle and Charlie are both 41. Jake is 19. Rose is 22. Emmett and Jasper are mid-twenties. Edward has his reasons for being called Ted, you'll find out but not in this chapter. Ted is a nickname for Theodore or Edward, but it can be a nickname regardless of first name. _

Ch. 5 Grubbing Up

The worst part of Friday mornings was that I had to drag my ass into work without the aid of real Dunkin' Donuts coffee. Even though Charlie treated me by buying their ridiculously expensive brand to make at home, it just wasn't the same. I swear they must put crack in the stuff they make at their shops, because nothing could compare. During the school year, I could get a few hours' sleep, go to class all day, work afterwards, then go home to study 'til after midnight and repeat the whole process again thanks to DD. My New Jersey roommate tried to convert me to Starbucks but I'm a New Englander through and through and there was no way some fancy Seattle chain was going to replace Dunkin' for me.

Jasper had shown up around nine a.m., grabbed the Suburban and headed over to Galilee, the nearest port on the mainland, for the parts they needed. Mr. Newton wouldn't let Jasper drive without a license, so Emmett had to go with him. They were both hung-over and bickered even worse than they had the previous day. Still, I was able to have a civil enough conversation to find out Jasper was the boat's engineer while Emmett was the mate and the greenie, Ted, was the cook. As Emmett had put it, _that's one thing he can't fuck up_. Like many transit deckhands, Jasper didn't have any form of identification: no license, no credit cards. There was nothing to prove he was really Jasper Whitlock. It wasn't that unusual. Fishing crews weren't employees, they were independent contractors. No taxes were withheld from their paychecks. They were expected to put some money aside after each trip, then pay when they filed their returns. Most of the time, the commercial fishermen with homes and families did, but sea gypsies didn't bother. As contractors, they didn't need to provide us with proof of citizenship or residency like an employee would. By the time the I.R.S. notified a boat owner that the crewmember's social security number didn't match his name, the deckhand had long since moved on. It took years before the tax agents caught up to them, if they ever did. The old saying about death and taxes didn't necessarily apply in the commercial fishing world. Here, death was far more of a certainty than taxes.

"Bella, check it out!" Mike called as he followed his dad into the office from the plant floor. Mr. Newton was carrying a hunk of tuna about the size of my clunky old computer monitor; no, I didn't have a flat screen. My mouth immediately began to water at the sight. One side of the deep ruby tuna flesh was straight and smooth from where it had been sliced away from the rest of the fish. The other side was the familiar concave half-moon shape of a shark bite. I beamed. Sharks used their amazing sense of smell to find and attack only the best quality tuna: sushi grade number one.

"Looks like we're having sushi for lunch." I remarked.

"Big-eye toro." Like my dad, Mr. Newton was a man of few words, but I knew he was pleased. A Big-eye tuna was a better sushi tuna than the more common Yellowfin or Ahi, as it was popularly known. Toro was the fatty belly meat, the best part of the fish. Our customers couldn't buy a fish with a visible bite. Health inspectors tend to frown upon restaurants selling a fish with a hunk of flesh roughly bitten from its body. Newton's carved up those fish into chunks that were sold separately. We kept the piece surrounding the damaged area. Mr. Newton would expertly trim the sweet cranberry colored flesh into bite-sized sashimi, mix some wasabi and soy sauce together and everyone at Newton's would swarm around the little galley kitchen like bluefish during a feeding frenzy. You couldn't get fresher, better sushi unless you were on board when the fish was caught. It was truly divine: manna from heaven. I tried to focus on my work and not the sounds coming from the galley but I was suddenly famished. The plant door opened again, distracting me momentarily. I watched as Doc and the greenie Ted walked towards my desk. Doc had a gleam in his eye that immediately made me wary. Ted didn't look at me. He seemed mostly interested in a spot on the floor. I was kind of glad, it was overwhelming enough having to look Doc in the eye, facing two gorgeous men at the same time would have left me tongue-tied.

"Bella, it's so nice to see you again." Doc began smoothly, laying on that infamous Cullen charm.

"You too, Doc. Is there something I can do for you?" I had a bad feeling I knew what it was.

"I think we're o.k., still trying to get out of here by tomorrow morning. Say, you don't have another truck we could borrow? Ted needs to go grub shopping and it sounds like Emmett and Jasper won't be back in time for him to wait for them."

And there it was. They needed groceries and there was no way they could get that much food and other essentials without a truck. Actually, this wasn't as bad as I thought. I offered Doc my pick-up. I wouldn't need it, plus that way all four of the Vampress crew would be out of my hair for the entire afternoon. I hated babysitting out-of-state crews.

"That's really very generous of you, Bella. Are you sure it's not too much of an imposition?" Doc gave me that megawatt smile and I suddenly felt very warm. Yes, it was definitely hot in the office.

"No really, it's no problem. I don't need it for any other reason this afternoon. I'll just run home and drive it over, that way you'll be able to catch the next ferry." I quickly explained that the supermarket was on the mainland, as I wrote out the directions. "It's only a five-minute drive from the ferry dock."

"You've been very gracious about us. Still, this is your personal vehicle. Of course, we'll cover the gas but I'd like to do something else. Do you like sword?"

Doc generously arranged for me to take home a nice piece of sword, enough to get several thick steaks. Charlie loved swordfish. I quickly drove my bike home and exchanged it for Trusty Rusty, my old Chevy pick-up. The truck had once been red. Year round exposure to the salted sea air meant vehicles had a hard life on the island. Still, if you didn't mind the appearance, the truck ran great. When I got back, Doc was gone. I spotted Ted slouched down in one of the chairs in front of Mr. Newton's desk. His long legs, encased in tight dark denim jeans spread out before him. Out of nowhere, an image of me straddling those legs entered my mind. Shit, what was I thinking? I needed to clear my head. I went into the galley and grabbed a plate of sushi, which was already half gone.

"You bastards better not have taken all the wasabi." I jokingly yelled out to our guys through the open plant door.

It was a well-known fact that I was addicted to the stuff. What can I say? I like having clear sinuses. Someone laughed and I looked up to see Eric chucking me the bird. I joked around with the guys before returning to my desk with my lunch. I eagerly dipped a piece of toro in soy sauce, smeared it with a large chunk of wasabi, my mouth salivating in anticipation. When I finally bit into the tender flesh, I couldn't help but close my eyes in bliss and moan with joy. I tried my best to not sound like I was having an orgasm in the middle of the office. Damn, sushi was almost better than sex. In fact, in my limited experience, I would say it was definitely better than at least one occasion.

I was startled to hear a throat clear and opened my eyes to see Ted had moved. He was standing directly in front of my desk, staring at me intently. I hadn't realized how tall he was until this moment. He leaned forward into my personal space, his soft sea-glass green eyes mesmerizing me. My own widened and teared up as the wasabi hit my sinuses hard. I took a deep breath. I had to clear my throat in order to speak.

"Oh crap, Ted. I'm sorry! I didn't even think that you were waiting for the keys. I just assumed Doc went somewhere and he'd get them when he came back. They're already in the ignition."

Ted suddenly looked embarrassed. At first, I thought it was from witnessing my food O but then his hand wrapped around the back of his neck as he took a step back. He glanced down and shuffled his feet. "Um, Carlisle said that you were taking me to the supermarket. He already left. I don't know where he went, but he said that you'd drive me? I don't have ID so I can't go by myself. "

"What?" I closed my eyes as I felt the anger surge through me, heating my cheeks.

"He said…." Ted nervously ran his hand up through his hair as he began to speak. I interrupted.

"I HEARD you!"

"Sorry, I kind of thought Carlisle was misleading you earlier. I should have said something." His voice was soft and calm compared to mine.

I nodded. I knew I was mostly angry at myself for being such a stupid fangirl and not realizing Doc was setting me up. Thinking back over our earlier conversation, I saw how obvious it was. He never once confirmed that he would be driving the truck. Instead, he dazzled me with his looks and bribed me with a chunk of sword and now I was stuck. I felt like such a fool. I sheepishly offered Ted an apology for snapping at him. I just hated being manipulated. I always tried to be straightforward and expected the same in return.

We had already missed the next ferry but since it was Friday, they ran every thirty minutes so we wouldn't have too long to wait. I got Ted a plate of sushi from the kitchen as a peace-offering for my rude behavior. He looked at it apprehensively before finally picking up his fork and eating a small piece. He gave me a small half-smile as he finished chewing and began preparing the next sashimi. Damn, what a beautiful man.

"For a minute, I thought you didn't like sushi." I joked.

He looked a bit awkward. "Well, I've never had it like this. I'm used to the pretty little rolls with the rice and seaweed. You can barely tell there's raw fish in those. I thought maybe a big piece would make me gag but then again, you seemed to really _enjoy_ yourself when you were eating it. Either that or maybe you don't have a gag reflex."

My head shot up. His eyes widened and I knew it had nothing to do with the wasabi this time. Neither of us spoke for a long moment, an incorporeal testing of limits and wills occurring. Ted cracked first, a smirk playing at his lips as a dimple appeared on one side. His eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I swear, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Then he giggled, actually giggled like a naughty Victorian schoolboy who'd gotten caught dipping a girl's hair in the inkwell.

His mood was infectious. "That's right. What would a _wirgin_ know about a gag reflex?" I teased, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

Ted immediately shifted from being lighthearted to somber. "Jasper and Emmett were so trashed. I know I probably looked like an asshole but I just couldn't deal with them. It's already bad enough being the new guy. I swear hell week for my fraternity was easier than this."

"You're in a frat—ernity?" I blurted out. I couldn't disguise the surprise in my voice. What the hell was a midwestern college kid doing on an offshore longliner? I could think of a million better summer jobs, although probably few paid better.

"Uh, yeah. I'd guess from the way you answered you're in a soro-ri-ty?" He countered, dragging out the word the way I had.

"No, it's not really my scene. My old roommate is in one. I go to U.R.I., the University of Rhode Island. There's a pretty big Greek presence on campus. I've already learned 'Would you call your mother a moth?'…"

"Would you call your country a – well you know." He smiled that same half smirk and even blushed a little before he stood up.

I finished the sentence "so don't call your fraternity a frat." as I watched him walked into the galley to dispose of the now empty plate. I suddenly imagined slipping my hands into his back pockets and squeezing that perfect ass. Jeez, what the hell was wrong with me? You'd think I hadn't gotten laid in months. O.k. well, I hadn't. I shook my head slightly. I needed to focus.

As Ted and I walked outside to the truck, I noticed the large, baggy t-shirt he was wearing. I took one look at the white Celtic lettering over the solid black fabric and had to ask.

"Is that your shirt?"

Ted look down, his hand smoothing the fabric over his chest. "No, actually, I didn't have anything clean so I borrowed it from Emmett. It was the only one I could find that wasn't offensive in some way."

I smirked as I climbed in the truck and started her up. My suspicions were confirmed. "Are you sure about that?"

"Well, I asked and Emmett said it meant Kiss me, I'm Irish." Ted replied as he shut his door.

I laughed. "Well, he didn't lie about the first word. Pog Mo Thoin means _kiss my ass_ in Gaelic."

Ted sighed and chuckled wryly "Honestly, that really isn't bad considering the other shirts I saw. Plus, how many people will really know what it means?"

I smiled as I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "You're right. I'd say there are only maybe a hundred Irish student workers on the island right now."

After a short drive over to the ferry, we parked on the car deck and made our way up top. The morning fog had burned off, leaving a view of flat calm water and an almost cloudless sky. We stood on deck watching the sea gulls hover above the draggers offloading at Newton's as the ferry pulled away from the dock. Just beyond the piers, the Victorian era hotels, with their wood facades and wrap-around porches, clustered on the slight hill that rose from the shore. My heart soared with love for my little island.

"Beautiful."

I glanced up at Ted, who held my gaze before jutting that gorgeous jawline in the direction of the island. For one second, I felt butterflies in my stomach, awakened by the hope that maybe he meant more than the island. I swallowed back the thought. I was being ridiculous. He wasn't interested in me and even if he was, I certainly didn't want to get involved with some drifter, even a stunningly handsome drifter.

"It's a special place." I finally said, realizing I had zoned out and he was still expecting a response.

Ted leaned against the rail, craning his neck to look as the island faded into the distance. "It's hard for me to believe it's real. I thought towns like this didn't exist. It feels as though we're in one of those Disney World resorts or a scene from the Truman Show. It's an entirely different world; reminiscent of another time. I can't imagine growing up someplace so safe and insulated."

He might not be able to imagine it, but I had lived it, so for the next hour as the ferry made its way to the mainland, I recounted everything I could about what it was like to live in the smallest town in the United States: the people, the school, the businesses; every aspect of island life. Ted wasn't like any longliner deckhand I had ever met. Most of those guys wouldn't want anything to do with this ordinary Mayberry- by -the -sea existence. Ted seemed to yearn for it.

"No one locks their doors and everyone leaves their car keys in the ignition?" He asked as we headed back below. I nodded.

"Maybe it's easier this way instead of believing that locks and alarms can protect you only to find out the safety they provide is an illusion." Ted looked as though he was weighed down by an invisible albatross as we returned to the truck. We exited the ferry and I made at quick stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a large iced coffee before leaving the port. I wanted to ask him what he meant when his cell phone rang, startling us. He quickly removed an unsophisticated looking device from his front jean pocket and answered. After a short conversation, he hung up and turned to me just as I pulled up to the light on Route 108.

"That was Carlisle. I need to buy enough food for five. We can't leave until

Sunday. It looks like we're taking an _observer_ on this trip and he's not arriving until then."

I nodded. I knew there'd be some reason they'd end up staying in port for Saturday night.

"Uh, Bella?" I glanced at Ted He looked uncertain and I knew what he was wondering.

"You want to know what an observer does?" It was his turn to nod. I continued. "They're scientists who collect data for the National Marine Fisheries Service. They could be gathering bycatch information or tagging fish for research, there are a number of different objectives. Regardless, vessels are required to take observers every so often so Doc doesn't have a choice. It's like winning the lottery or being drafted."

"So the government forces vessels to take observers with them and expects us to work around these people?"

"_Forced_ is a strong word. Vessels in certain fisheries know they must take observers in order to participate. The observers all have at least a bachelor's degree in science and they've undergone training courses that includes vessel safety, CPR and first aid, and ocean survival." I give him a pointed look. "Did you do any of that before your first trip?"

He rolled his eyes.

"They probably know more about longlining than you do. You might want to try to stay out of their way."

He huffed and crossed his arms, but didn't say anything. The petulant look on his face was enough. I tried not to laugh or think about how fuck hot he looked at the moment. I had a weakness for broody emo boys. I think I got it from my mom. She had a thing for Morrissey when she was my age and I totally understood the appeal. Yet somehow, she ended up with Charlie. The only eighties singer he resembled was John Oates, who was about as opposite as one could get from The Smiths' former frontman. It was mind-boggling. Ted and I spent the next few minutes discussing the list and devising a strategy for shopping. By the time I pulled into the lot and parked, we had a pretty good idea of how to proceed. We each grabbed three shopping carts, keeping them one inside the other and went first to the milk aisle, filling up one cart entirely with gallons of milk. Ted then wheeled it to a closed checkout at the front while I filled another cart with juice and eggs. We worked in tandem, filling carts with enough essentials to last five adults at sea for approximately four weeks, then lined them up at the checkout. We were in the beverage aisle when Ted looked around confused.

"What do you need?"

"Beer."

I groaned. "This is Rhode Island. You can't buy alcohol at the supermarket. There's a liquor store nearby." Suddenly, something occurred to me.

"Wait, how do you expect to buy alcohol without i.d.?"

"I don't. I figured we would use yours."

"How do you know I'm old enough?"

"You're a college student; you must have an i.d."

"I'm also the daughter of the island's police chief!"

"So, it's a good fake i.d."

"It's not fake. I'm legal."

"Even better. We're all set." He waggled his eyebrows and gave me a shit eating grin and I forgot why I was irritated with him. Ted took a step closer to me, blocking everything else from my line of vision. My breath hitched and the butterflies returned as he hovered over me. All I could focus on was his mouth, with its soft full lip as he leaned in closer. He reached behind me and began grabbing two liter bottles of soda. I realized then he wasn't even looking at me. I cleared my throat and shook my head slightly.

We finished up and went back to the checkout where our carts were neatly lined up. Ted started heading to the service counter.

"Where are you going?"

"To get cigarettes, why do I have to buy those at a different store too?"

"Actually, yes. Didn't Doc tell you to ask me about getting them?"

Ted scratched his head, confused. "Uh, well. He said you would know where to get them but I didn't think about it."

"Fishermen can buy cigarettes tax-free. The catch is you're only supposed to smoke them offshore. I'll call the cigarette guy when we finish out."

"There's a cigarette guy?"

"Yep, Alistair. His whole business is selling cigarettes to fishermen. He has to report everything to the government so don't think about buying more and trying to sell them for a profit. Boats are only allowed so many cartons per man."

The grocery bill was over four thousand dollars. I slid the corporate card through, knowing that Volterra would send us a check as soon as I faxed them the receipt. By the time we finished the packing the grub in the pick-up and getting the beer, it was time to meet Alistair. He was a good guy, even if he was a little paranoid about his cigarette inventories. I couldn't blame him. His stocks were closely monitored to make sure no one was taking advantage of the odd little law that allowed offshore fishermen to pay less than half of what everyone else did for cigarettes. We collected the cartons and headed to the Port of Galilee. I would get back just on time to get ready for my shift at the Wolf. I automatically stopped at another Dunkin and we both got iced coffees. I spent the rest of the drive trying to keep my eyes on the road and not to notice the way his lips looked as he sucked on his straw.

We were about halfway back to the ferry when Ted asked "Do you always drive like this? "

"What do you mean?"

"Well, even though you are driving the speed limit, you really like to hit those pedals hard."

"No I don't."

"_Yes, you do_." He emphasized each word.

"You know this is a truck, it's not going to be a perfectly smooth ride."

"I realize that but it also shouldn't feel like the Vampress in a ten foot swell."

I huffed. "While this truck happens to be a classic, it doesn't have the acceleration capabilities of a modern vehicle. If I didn't hit the gas, it wouldn't move."

He muttered something.

"What?"

"I said I've never seen a slow driver with a lead foot. It's an oxymoron."

"Oxymoron? And I'm not a slow driver. I am obeying the speed limit, like the daughter of the chief of police _should_."

"Yes, an oxymoron, a phrase in which words of contradictory meaning are used together for special effect…"

"I KNOW what it means! Listen, if you don't like the way I drive, then maybe you should get a license yourself."

"Sure, point me to the gumball machine where you got yours and I'll do it right now."

"I happen to have a perfect driving record. You on the other hand, don't even drive."

"I _can_ drive and I _did_ have a license. I just lost it and it's kind of hard to get a new one when you're half way across the country."

"How inconvenient!"

"It really is!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have left home without getting it replaced first."

We turned onto the Escape Road and I hit the gas just because I could. As the truck lurched forward I thought I heard Ted mutter something about not having a home anymore but when I asked he just replied "Nothing."

_A/N So we learn a little more about Ted. I'm curious to know what you all think of him. Chapter 6 should be ready for next Friday, If it's not, StacyO72 will go all Jersey girl on me. Whenever I can, I will post teasers on Mondays on Fictionators and Wednesdays on Ficcentral. If anyone has another site they like, please let me know. I added a link to an aerial picture of the Port of Galilee and the Escape Road on my profile. RI Trivia- the Galilee Escape Road was built after Hurricane Carol in the 1950's to provide another way to get out of the port. I am getting embarrassingly addicted to reviews so please leave me your comments. It's embarrassing because I'm guilty of hardly ever reviewing the stories I read. I think I need to go back and change that. I still owe a few replies from the last chapter, but I will answer them all. _


	6. Chapter 6- Her Name is Rosie

**Beta****- StacyO72- I sent her three different versions of this chapter and she had to re-edit each one because I forgot to copy over her edits. I hope she still loves me. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

_A/N- For those who wonder why Carlisle didn't want to go grocery shopping: there were no ulterior motives. Captains don't go grub shopping. That is part of the crew's duties. _

CH. 6- Her Name is Rosie…

"Are you sure about this?" Ted asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Yes, no one is going to steal your grub. This isn't the big city. If you want to stay down here with it, go ahead. I'm going up top." With that I turned and headed towards the observation deck. No way was I sitting behind a diesel fueled reefer for the next hour. I was already nauseated from the fumes. I climbed up the stairs and found an open spot on a bench on the port side, in the sun. Ted sat down next to me, stretching his long legs out. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and let the warmth seep through my skin. I let the soft lull of the ferry's movement over the waves relax me. A brief thought about how awful it must be to grow up landlocked passed through my mind when I heard the pounding of small feet coming towards me. Before I could react, a pair of children around eight or nine years old had tripped over Ted's feet and fallen right on my lap, pushing me back into Ted. I had to balance my right hand on his chest to stop from falling face first into his lap. Ted's right arm was immediately wrapped around me, helping me regain my equilibrium. His hand touched the bare skin of my arm, sending a jolt of static electricity through me. With a giggle and a "sorry", the kids were off again.

"Sorry." We both apologized.

He quickly pulled his hand away, as I sat up and returned to my spot.

"Richie! Did you get the beer?!"

Ted and I both groaned at the same time. "Pog Mo Thoin." I heard him mutter under his breath.

"Yeah, Emmett, four cases, just like Carlisle asked." Ted didn't bother to correct him about his name.

"Four cases. That's not even 2 beers per person per day." Jasper complained. "Ain't no way, that observer is getting any."

"Of course not. The beer is for the crew and Doc never gets more than a case a man on a trip. It keeps you fishing and wanting to get home. There's nothing worse than being dried out at sea." Emmett countered.

I looked over and quickly looked away rather than stare at the artistically drawn very round ass of a woman wearing only yellow boots, gloves and a fisherman's hat on the front of his shirt. I recognized the logo of a New Jersey marine supply store with the motto "Gear that works as good as it looks" written below. Ted was right, compared to the Emmett's current choice of shirt, Pog Mo Thoin was completely inoffensive.

They talked about the grub and supplies they had bought. Jasper had to drive up to one of the other towns in order to find all the parts they needed, which explained why they were only now getting back over to the Block. I kept my eyes shut and just listened to the cadence of their speech. I loved southern accents. When I was young, the island theater would show classic movies during the winter months. Gone With The Wind would play often, along with Casablanca and a handful of Jimmy Stuart movies. Alice, our friend Rosalie and I would play dress up and pretend we were the O'Hara sisters. Alice and Rosalie both always wanted to be Scarlett. I got stuck being Sue Ellen or Careen every time.

I felt someone sit down next to me and hit my leg with theirs. I slid over just a bit closer to Ted, which wasn't much of a hardship, he smelled really nice, like sunshine and cinnamon. The person on the other side bumped my knee again. I turned my head and came face to face with the best surprise of my summer.

"ROSE!"

I practically leaped on top of her in my excitement. We whooped and hugged and laughed. I finally pulled back to ask what she was doing home.

Before she could answer, I heard Emmett speak. "You ladies don't stop on our account. In fact, Bella, if you want to give your friend a kiss, that's perfectly fine with us. Something soft and wet, you don't even have to use your tongue, unless you want to."

I lowered my face so Emmett wouldn't see the smirk. He had no idea what kind of shit storm he had just walked into.

"Who the fuck are you?! No, wait. Don't answer that! You have no idea who the fuck I am yet you just assume you can fucking talk to a complete stranger like I'm some skanky ass girls gone wild whore?! Maybe that's acceptable in whatever backwoods hillbilly shack you grew up in but it's not here. Go find some cousin you can marry and talk to her like that."

I peeked up at Emmett and snickered. He was slack-jawed, his mouth open wide. Jasper and Ted wore similar expressions. Rose tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder, looking every bit like an ancient goddess of Norse mythology. Words like gorgeous and perfect seemed inadequate when describing Rose. But Rose was much more than just a pretty face. She was also the daughter of Big Jim Hale, president of the Rhode Island Lobstermen Association and she had inherited his tenacious personality as well as his foul mouth. No one messed with Rose and came away unscathed.

"Hillbilly." Jasper was the first to recover his wits, such as they were. He pointed at Emmett and laughed.

"Who you calling hillbilly, redneck?" Emmett replied.

"I'd rather be a redneck than a hillbilly. Besides, I'm not a redneck, I'm a longhorn." Jasper retorted.

"You wish you had a longhorn."

Ted got up and got between them before it could degenerate any further.

Rose leaned over and asked "Deckhands?"

I nodded.

"Which boat?"

"A longliner from Wanchese, the Vampress; they're leaving Sunday morning."

"I figured."

I looked down at the large olive drab sea bag at Rose's feet, and had one of those lightbulb moments.

"You're not?!" I whispered.

"I am but let's just keep that to ourselves. After all, what kind of observer would I be if I didn't observe." She whispered back.

Rose had graduated early from the University of Miami with a degree in Marine Biology. She had completed NMFS training and was working as an observer, like I wanted to do next year if I could finish my degree.

"I thought you were in the scallop program?"

"I was but most of the part-time boats already filled their days at sea and I needed something steadier so I switched to the pelagic longline last month. I couldn't believe it when I got the call yesterday to go to Block Island. Of course, I told them I wasn't available 'til Sunday. There's no way I was coming home and not seeing my girls."

I nodded. It made sense that the scallop fishery was mostly finished. A part-time scallop boat fished only forty four days a year. The season began on May 1 with the opening of the Elephant Trunk fishing grounds off the coast of New Jersey. Forty four days at sea equaled three two-week trips.

"Still, pelagic longline? Do you really want to spend thirty days at sea with a crew of sea gypsies?" I could think of five or six other fisheries I'd rather work.

Before she could answer, Emmett raised his voice from the loud whispers he had exchanged with the other deckhands. "Apologize for what? I'm just being honest and saying what we were all thinking. Don't act like you didn't want to see a little lesbian spit-swapping. You were watching them, just the same as me and Jasper."

I looked at Rose with my eyebrows raised, wordlessly emphasizing my point.

Ted turned away from Emmett and slowly approached us, his shoulders hunched and his face red. His long fingers ran through his hair as he stopped and cleared his throat.

"Uh, well, I just wanted to apologize for that. Um, you were absolutely right, it wasn't appropriate. Ted looked directly at Rose and offered his hand. "I'm Ted Platt."

"Rosalie Hale". They shook. Ted sat down next to me again. They made small talk while I fought the sudden urge to have some part of my body- a knee, a shoulder, anything- touching him. I subtly moved my leg towards his. Our knees touched. It was warm and I was pathetic but there was no way I was moving my knee. I smiled to myself in satisfaction when I noticed that he didn't pull his leg away.

"Aw, I see how this works now, Richie. Nice trick. In that case, I'm the one and only Emmett McCarty and this here is Jasper Whitlock."

Emmett and Jasper walked over and stood in front of us. I couldn't look up without staring directly at the artfully airbrushed ass on Emmett's shirt. I kept my eyes on Rose. I really didn't want to have _Baby Got Back_ stuck in my head.

"Richie? I thought his name was Ted." Rosalie was confused.

I briefly explained the Happy Days reference. Rosalie snorted. "So that makes you two Potsie and Ralph Malph? She pointed to Emmett and Jasper respectively.

Emmett looked insulted. "No fucking way. If I'm anyone it's the Fonz."

"The Fonz, please. If anyone is the Fonz, it's me. I'm the ship's engineer." Jasper retorted.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"Fonzie was always fixing stuff by hitting it and shit."

"So you're equating spending five hours up to your junk in diesel, repairing a leaking fuel pump with turning on a jukebox with one punch?"

I looked over at Rose and mouthed _"Are you sure?"_

She nodded whispering "I can handle deckhands."

Jasper retorted, saying something about Emmett and Fonzie, but it was completely lost to me because Ted leaned over, put one hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. "What's going on?"

His breath enveloped my ear and neck. It was warmer than the sea air that surrounded us, yet I shivered. I gazed into his eyes and got lost in their color. I should have pulled back and not said a word, but instead I edged closer until I could feel the heat emanating from his body as I whispered back. "Can you keep a secret?"

Twenty minutes later, I said goodbye to Rose as the ferry pulled up to the dock.

"Mansion Beach tomorrow?" She asked. "Alice, Jess, and Angela will all be there. I texted Alice earlier. You're not working, right?

"My shift at the Wolf starts at four but I'm free before that."

"Perfect! Alice and I are having breakfast with Dad and Miranda then meeting Angela and Jess at ten."

I nodded. Alice's mom, Miranda, and Rosalie's dad, Big Jim had gotten married about five years earlier. They were one of the most unlikely couples I had ever known, even more so than Charlie and Renee. Miranda could only be described as a goth hippie, petite with pale skin and dark hair like her daughter, she had been an organic vegan when she first moved to the island with Alice over fifteen years earlier. Miranda been Renee's closest friend on the island. The two outsiders had similar tastes and were both artists: Renee painted and sculpted while Miranda specialized in jewelry and fabrics made from organic recycled materials.

Big Jim was the definition of an outdoorsman. Raising Rosalie alone after her mom lost the battle with cancer wasn't easy for him. He made sure his daughter could sail, shoot, and catch fish, but the girly stuff was outside his comfort zone. He and Charlie spent our pubescent years commiserating with each other down at The Black Wolf. In addition to being a commercial fisherman, Big Jim liked to hunt. He had led the fight to get the island's deer population under control through hunting. Deer were not native to the island and had no natural enemies. While it was well-known that there were too many, most people had been unwilling to do anything about it. Miranda actually threatened to bring PETA to the island to protest Big Jim's plans so imagine poor Alice's surprise when she came home sick from school one day to find the pair _in flagrante delicto_ in the bathroom shower. If Alice hadn't already been about to vomit, that would have done it.

I met Ted back on the car deck. We drove off the ferry and pulled up to the bulkhead so he and the others could unload the grub. I wondered again if it had been a good idea to tell him that Rose was the observer they were taking offshore but for some reason, I trusted him.

"Bella?" Ted called to me as I headed towards my office.

He took a few steps towards me and gazed down, making eye contact. "Thanks for driving today. I know babysitting me wasn't how you expected to spend the day. I am truly grateful, even if your driving gave me whiplash." He smiled so wide it crinkled his eyes and dimpled his cheeks.

I forgot my name, my age, everything as I lost myself in that smile. I stammered out a reply, something about it not being a big deal, it was all part of the job, before I retreated back into the office.

I walked in to find Mr. Newton and Mike high-fiving each other. Mr Newton was unusually animated. That was strange.

"Bella! We just got the returns back on the Vampress stock." Mr. Newton thrust a piece of paper towards me. I look down, checking for the one number I knew was most important: the Bluefin price.

"Holy … Thirty dollars a pound?!" That was unheard of for a domestic fish.

"Yep. I just got off the phone with Aro at Volterra. They're so pleased that they want the Vampress to take out here again and they may send the Predator down when she finishes her trip."

I took a quick glance at the rest of the numbers. All the prices were good. Even with the Vampress landing a short trip of eighteen thousand pounds, they would still gross almost one hundred and ten thousand dollars. After expenses, each full share crew member stood to make at least fifteen thousand dollars each. Doc, as captain, would make almost double that. That's a lot of cash burning a hole in your pocket.

I congratulated the Newtons on the proceeds and got back to work. I sat at my desk and tried to hide the smile on my face. The Vampress, and Ted, would be packing out on Block Island indefinitely.

_A/N So Rose is the observer- did anyone guess that? I ended up splitting this chapter in half, it was just getting too long and I never would have been able to post it all today. RL is always hectic but this week was even worse than usual. Hopefully next week will be better. _

_Find me on Twitter: shelly_duran (2 underscores). That's where I say stupid stuff, tweet StacyO72 even though she never answers, act like a Duran Duran snob, and complain about being 1 degree of separation away from Rob and not knowing it until long after it happened. _

_Fic Rec: If you aren't reading The Art of Getting Fluffed by Chocolatesparrow, you don't know what you're missing. Pornstar Edward. Funniest fic I've read in a while. _


	7. Chapter 7- And She Dances on the Sand

**Beta****- StacyO72- Apparently, I can say whatever I want about her on Twitter because she never goes there. She's too busy playing Candy Crush Saga. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

_A/N Not one person figured out Rose was the observer. I like that I surprised you all. It makes me excited for those future surprises I have planned. (evil laugh) _

Ch. 7 And She Dances on the Sand….

"Irina, baby. What we shared was great but I think it's only fair to tell you, Jasper and I are Canadian. We can't help you and your sister get green cards."

I tried not to burst out laughing. Emmett and Jasper had ended up in my section tonight. Emmett had exchanged that god-awful ass shirt for a classic "Eat Tuna, Wear Grunden's" black and white tee-shirt. I set their drinks down on the table. "Here's your beer, **_eh_**. Sorry, we were out of Molson and La Batt's." Emmett shot me a look of warning.

"Canadian?" the other girl asked.

"Sure, that's why we sound different from everyone else here. Y'all must have noticed our accents." Jasper interjected.

I bit my lip to keep in the giggle threatening to explode.

"Da." The two blondes nodded in agreement as I hurried back to the bar to get my next order. A few minutes later, I noticed the girls getting friendly with a couple of surfer types while Jasper and Emmett were flirting with a pair of Irish girls who worked over at the Mallory Arms. That didn't take long at all.

There was a live band playing 80's covers tonight at the Wolf and the place was filled with day-trippers seeking a fun weekend. Like most places on the island, there was no air conditioning. The windows and patio doors were open, allowing the cool ocean breeze to waft through, clearing away the smell of beer and burgers. I could see right through to the patio in the back where Ted and Doc had been seated since they arrived earlier for dinner. Unlike the other night, Doc was able to enjoy anonymity among the tourist crowd and he and Ted remained relatively unnoticed. Of course, even if Doc wasn't recognized as a celebrity, woman still took notice of the fact that both he and his companion were very handsome men. I found myself secretly hoping the two would be mistaken as a gay couple and the women would keep away. I sighed, I was being ridiculous. I couldn't quite figure out what it was about Ted, beyond his looks that had me so turned around. I had seen handsome men before but there was something more, something intriguing and I was determined to find out what it was. I glanced at Emmett and Jasper then back at Ted and Doc and shook my head. Alice always got the best section. I made my way to the kitchen and caught Alice just as she was coming out.

"Hey, would you mind switching sections with me?" I knew I failed miserably at making my request sound casual.

"Why? Are you crushing on Doc Cullen?"

"No!" I quickly reassured her. My infatuation with Doc had faded the moment I realized he had set me up to be Ted's chauffeur.

Alice grabbed my wrist. "Is it the deckhand? You like a deckhand?! You, Bella Swan, a charter member of the Rosalie Hale _'I don't shit where I eat_' club?"

I rolled my eyes. Rose had sworn off all fishermen after she had her heart broken by an asshole dragger when she was eighteen. "Of course not, I just need to get some fresh air. It's too hot near the stage."

Alice skeptically arched an eyebrow. "Don't worry, I won't tell Rose you've got the hots for a deckhand. I say go for it, you could use a good lay. As long as you don't take it seriously, what's the harm?" Alice glanced over at my section where Emmett and Jasper were in the center of a group of girls. "That Vampress crew sure is fuckable."

It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at her. "Is that so? Looks like you might need to turn in your membership card too. Do you have a preference?"

Alice smiled. "There's something about a man with a full sleeve that I just can't resist."

"So you want to switch with me?"

Alice responded by tickling my palm with her fingers. I did the same before we both slid our hands back, in silent confirmation of our plans.

We rounded the corner from the kitchen and froze as we saw Rose enter the bar with a group including Jess, Mike, Angela, and Ben. She smiled and waved when she saw us.

"Did you know she was coming here tonight?" I leaned in and asked as we waved back, smiles plastered on both our faces.

"No. She said she was getting together with some of the group but she didn't mention anything else."

I watched them grab a table near the dance floor. "O.k., it looks like they're staying inside so just be subtle if you're going to flirt."

"Don't worry. I've got a feeling I know just what to do. Good luck with the hottie."

"Ted. His name is Ted."

"Whatever…" She called over her shoulder as she headed towards Rose's table."

I walked to the patio outside and checked on a few tables before making my way over to Ted and Doc. I wasn't someone who could flirt easily, if that was even what I was trying to attempt. I didn't really know what I wanted other than to get another opportunity to speak to Ted.

"Bella. Did Alice leave?" Doc asked as I approached their table.

"No, we just switched. I was getting too hot inside." I explained, the excuse sounding even lamer to me than it did the first time. I was just about to ask if they needed anything when I felt a hand on my elbow.

"Hey Bells, can you get me a 'Gansett?" Charlie slid into the seat on my left, next to Carlisle. "Sorry I couldn't get here for dinner. I got held up filling out paperwork for a moped accident. Do you want a refill?" He asked pointing to their drinks. "Bella, can you take care of that?"

"Thanks. Don't worry about me, Charlie. I had Ted to keep me company." Doc responded with a chuckle.

I nodded, stupefied. My dad- who appeared freshly shaved and showered in his good jeans and a clean tee-shirt- clearly had dinner plans with Doc Cullen. Was this some sort of bromance in the making?

"Ted, you don't have to hang around with the old geezers. I'm pretty sure Emmett and Jasper are still inside." Doc added.

Ted's eyes locked with mine. "Actually, I'd prefer to remain here. It's too hot inside for me, too."

I willed myself not to blush but I knew I couldn't control it. I only hoped the lighting on the patio was dim enough to conceal the color of my face. I went back inside and ordered their beers. While I waited, I glanced over and saw Emmett and Jasper had joined Rosalie, and the others. The dance floor was packed, leaving the remaining area mostly empty. Alice had taken advantage of the lack of work and positioned herself so she was standing next to Jasper. Her tray was at her hip, as though she was ready to take their orders. I couldn't help but laugh. She was beaming and I don't just mean her smile. She had somehow managed to take the generic Black Wolf tee the staff wore and tied it so tightly that her nipples could be seen across the room. Luckily for Jasper, he didn't have to look that far. They were right at his eye level and had certainly grabbed his attention. Jake placed the beers on my tray and I returned to the patio.

By the time I returned, Doc, Charlie and Ted had moved a chair away so Billy could fit his wheelchair at the table and join them. I stayed close, eavesdropping as they traded stories of fishing in the eighties heydays, before the groundfish crisis and the cod stock collapse. They eventually segued into the problems facing present day commercial fishing. Charlie called me over once to get my opinion on the Total Allowable Catch vs. Individual Transferable Quota vs. Sector Aggregate debate that was the current hot topic in East Coast fisheries management. Ted sat there, quietly listening, occasionally joining in to ask questions; he seemed to be engrossed in the conversation. I returned to my work but a few times I could feel his eyes following me as I moved around the patio clearing empties and dumping ashtrays. I cleared a table of dirty glasses and plates, I felt the back of my neck tingle. I turned and my eyes locked with his. He looked away quickly and I moved off to empty my tray. He was watching again as I came back out; but again, his eyes moved back to Doc to listen to what he was saying, but now he had a small smile quirking his lips. The third time our eyes met as I passed by their table, his smile had morphed into a smirk that made my knees weak.

Before I knew it, I heard the band launched into Tender Years, the song they played at the end of their set. The song was always popular here since Beaver Brown was a Rhode Island band. It was sentimental and catchy: the perfect ending for a hot sweaty night on the dance floor. I could hear the crowd singing along with the chorus as I filled orders for last call. I didn't have to look to know they would drunkenly sway, arms wrapped around each other as though most hadn't been strangers just a few hours ago. I brought my dad and Doc one more round just as the song ended and the crowd cheered. Ted lightly touched my wrist as I turned away. Again, I felt the same static electricity as I had on the ferry that afternoon. I looked back over my shoulder to see what he wanted just as the band's lead singer suddenly began talking.

"Alright. As our fans know, that's usually our final song of the night but tonight we've got a special encore performance. The Black Wolf is very fortunate to have with us not one but two stars of the very popular former Discovery Channel series _Wild Boys_! Let's hear it!"

The crowd hooted and hollered.

"That's right. Doc Cullen and Emmett McCarty of the show are here and Emmett has generously agreed to join us on stage for our rendition of Duran Duran's _Wild Boys_! Come on up Emmett!"

The band launched into the opening synth chords. Ted dropped my hand and stood. We both made our way inside just as Emmett got up on stage and began enthusiastically singing along, sharing the mike with the lead singer. Simon Le Bon had nothing to fear from either of them but the crowd was so far gone they didn't care, cheering and yelling for them both.

I glanced at Ted who stood there laughing. "Emmett wasn't on the Wild Boys, was he?" I asked over the din of noise.

Ted leaned in close, his breath again tickling my ear. "He was. I guess some guy was taken off Carlisle's boat and Emmett replaced him. I think he was in two or three episodes but he really only appeared in the background."

I nodded. I remembered when one of Doc's deckhands had accused Doc of cheating him on his crew share. Doc fired him right there in the middle of the Atlantic. A passing dragger was hailed and the crewmember was transferred off the boat. Doc finished the trip three-handed and still landed more fish than any other longliner that month. For some reason, I couldn't remember anything about the crewmember who had been hired when Doc finished that trip. It seemed strange that Emmett would be so unmemorable considering he was currently on stage, under a spotlight, shaking his hips in an imitation of an eighties lead singer. The song finished to wild cheers. I turned to get back to work when Emmett took the mike.

"Thank you my fans! That was fucking awesome! Alright!"

The crowd cheered again as Emmett covered the mike and whispered in the ear of the lead singer. I saw a large roll of bills slip from Emmett's fingers into the other man's pocket.

"We have to do that again. Who wants to hear some more Duran Duran? I got just the song. I met a very beautiful girl today that I would really like to get to know better." He waggled his eyebrows then his hips, crudely demonstrating just what he meant. "Rosie, this is for you."

The unmistakable four/four beat of Rio began as Emmett jumped off stage and made his way towards Rosalie, who was still seated at the table. I knew my own expression had to mirror hers: mouth open, eyes round, expression horrified as Emmett began the chorus, with a minor alteration.

"_Her name is Rosie and she dances on the sand  
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land  
And when she shines she really shows you all she can  
Oh Rosie, Rosie dance across the Rio Grande"_

Emmett knelt in front of Rose, sweat dripping from his brow. The ends of his hair curled up on his neck and his shirt was soaked through as he belted out the lyrics. I could tell Rose was looking for a means of escape but there was none.

"So, I take it you kept my secret?" I leaned in and asked Ted.

Ted could only nod; he was shaking so hard with laughter. I had never seen him look so happy and it only made him more beautiful. His laughter was infectious and I smiled so widely it hurt my cheeks.

"What?" he asked once he caught his breath.

"You look so much more relaxed than the first night you were here."

"There hasn't been much in my life to laugh about recently." The sadness that was sometimes lurking in his eyes surfaced and I felt bad that I had brought it up. I tried to lighten his mood.

"So Emmett doesn't sing eighties tunes to random women in every port?"

He glanced back just as the sax solo ended and Emmett launched into the final verse.

"No. This is a first."

"Huh." That was an interesting tidbit but I knew Emmett had no chance of getting Rose. Even if she had never been involved with that idiot deckhand Royce, she was far too serious about her job as an observer to risk getting involved with a crewmember on a vessel where she worked.

I glanced around for Alice, wondering how she could miss this but she was nowhere to be found. I suddenly realized Jasper wasn't at the table either.

"Have you seen Jasper?" I asked Ted just as the music ended.

"He's probably outside smoking." Ted answered.

I nodded. It was possible. It was also possible he had his tongue down Alice's throat, too. I could see Emmett was talking to Rose. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could tell from the body language that Rose was turning him down.

"Show's over." I was about to return to clearing tables when I remembered Ted had grabbed my hand. "Hey, did you want to ask me something?"

Ted looked down. "Oh, yeah. I was just wondering if you were working at Newton's tomorrow. You know, if I needed anything else before we leave."

"No. I have the weekends off. Someone will be there though, in case there are fish landings, but I only work Monday through Friday. I'll be at Mansion Beach with Rose and some other friends tomorrow but not for long because then I have to be back here by four. I'll just be at the beach for a few hours, you know 'girl time'. It's just outside of town off Corn Neck Road so it's not far, not that anything is far considering the island is only like ten miles long."

I was babbling. I knew I was babbling. I suddenly had this stupid desire to see him in nothing but swim trunks, or a speedo. I didn't even like speedos but somehow, I knew he could rock a banana hammock. Shit, I was staring at his crotch. How long had I been doing that? I was still staring. His jeans were snug. I could tell he hung left. Ted slid both his hands into his front pockets. Shit! Look. Up. Bella. I forced my eyes upward. Ted towered over me, his shoulders hunched forward. His hair fell towards one eye. I had an urge to push it away but I stopped myself. He tilted his head a little, effectively fixing it himself. He smirked knowingly as his eyes swept over me. I didn't think there was much to see: black sneakers, black capris, black work tee-shirt but the look he gave me suggested otherwise. I quietly gasped. It was the same penetrating gaze Doc had given me when I had brought him his license. Ted had Rhett Butlered me. My body moved closer to him of its own accord. I felt a hand on my hip when the house lights suddenly came on, effectively ending the spell we had both been under. The hand was gone so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it. We each stepped back while the crowd spilled around us, heading to the front door.

"Uh, so I'll probably come down to see Rose when you steam out."

"Yeah, well, I think we're leaving with the high tide Sunday morning." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while the other remained in his pocket.

"So around 6:30 am? I'll be there."

"It's a small island. Maybe I'll see you around tomorrow?" He arched one eyebrow. Could he possibly be asking if it was o.k. for him to go to MB or was I imagining things?

"Yep. Small island, big ocean." I hoped I answered in a way that could be construed as an invitation if he was looking for one. We said goodnight and I watched him walk away before I headed in the opposite direction towards the patio where I had tables to clear.

_A/N In a strange bit of serendipity, today is the 31__st__ anniversary of the release of Rio, so it is fitting to have this chapter named after part of the title song. I couldn't resist putting a little Duran Duran in this chapter. I promise, songs are the extent of it. I swear on a stack of bibles, there won't be any sort of weird crossover with Simon landing his yacht on Block Island. Of course, such an event is totally plausible considering he still races competitively but I WON'T DO IT! Look for teasers on Fictionators and Ficcentral on Monday and Wednesday. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed- the last chapter had twenty reviews, the most yet for one chapter!_

_Find me on Twitter: shelly_duran (2 underscores)_


	8. Chapter 8- Beaches, Bluffs, & Mazes Pt 1

**Beta****- StacyO72- Don't ever spell Barnegat wrong. She'll go all Jersey girl on you, especially if you do it twice. The saying is, "Can't read, can't write- Barnegat Light." That's because it's impossible to spell! **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is **

**intended. **

_Way down the lane away, living for another day  
The aphids swarm up in the drifting haze  
Swim seagull in the sky towards that hollow western isle  
My envied lady holds you fast in her gaze- The Chauffeur, Duran Duran _

_A/N- I was completely blown away by the reviews for the last chapter- all thirty four of them! Thank you to everyone who wrote one. I didn't mention it last week, but I submitted TUITML as an Under the Radar fic on Ficcentral and I'm thrilled to say it was accepted! Hello to everyone who found the story there. I was amazed by how many of you asked for more Duran Duran in your reviews. One of my favorites was the comment about Edward possibly being the offspring of John Taylor and a redhead because of the bedhead hair. I can safely safe that John Taylor isn't Edward's father. Hmmm…. John Taylor discovering he has an adult love child. I wonder if there's a fic out there somewhere lingering unfinished about that very topic – STACYO72! _

_By the way, I hope everyone likes crack-fic lemons…._

**Ch. 8 Beaches, Bluffs, and Mazes- Pt. 1 **

"Are you going to tell me where you disappeared to last night?" My words tumbled out in a quick whisper. Even though I knew Rosalie and the others couldn't hear us from the shoreline, I still kept my voice low.

"Calm down. I know what you're thinking. I was with Jasper but it was perfectly innocent. We just talked."

I don't respond other than to glance at her in disbelief.

"O.k., there may have been a kiss."

Again, I don't respond.

"A few kisses; a few really hot kisses." She adds. "And maybe, possibly a boob could have been touched. I'm not sure. It definitely wasn't a grope, more like a light fondle."

I just look at her over the frames of my sunglasses. Alice puts down her e-reader and huffs in exasperation.

"O.M.G. Stop looking at me like that! What is wrong with you? I swear that was it. Did you think I humped him in the bathroom?"

"Well, maybe the back hall, the bathroom…not so much." I concede.

"Gross. As if I'd settle for a quickie in the Wolf bathroom, when I know he's staying at the Mallory. You've been in those bathrooms at the end of a Friday night." We both shuttered, picturing end of the night clean up and the gagging that has occurred. "Besides, I'm not some fishing groupie looking for a quick fuck. You saw that body. I want that all night."

I ponder this for a moment. "So it's gross because it's a quickie, or it's gross because it's in the bathroom?"

"Bella," She huffed impatiently, "can you really not distinguish the difference between a quickie, a one-night stand, and a relationship?"

"I thought you said to not take deckhands seriously." I counter. Alice, along with Rose and I, had an informal pact of sorts. We stayed far away from the commercial fishermen who worked on the island. Unbeknownst to Rose, Alice occasionally bent the rules if she thought a guy was particularly appealing.

"I don't want to marry the guy; I just want to screw him on a bed, a big comfortable bed with three hundred thread count sheets." She plopped back on the beach blanket and spread her arms out.

I glanced up and watched Rosalie, Jessica, and Angela making their way over to us, effectively ending our conversation. We had chosen a spot further back from the high tide line, towards the northern edge of the beach. A smattering of umbrellas and chairs covered the wide sandy expanse. Rose dropped her boogie board and plopped into the chair next to me.

"I can't believe how crowded it is!" Rose bitched, wringing out her hair with a towel.

"Rose, there are probably no more than fifty people here." Jessica replied as she looked out across the mostly empty white sand.

"When we were in high school it would have been just locals." Rose glared at a family of five making their way down to the ocean.

"A couple of years ago, one of those travel sites named MB the best beach on the island and since then there's been a lot more tourists." Angela explained.

"Fuckers." Rosalie complained. She looked back over her shoulder. "Ali, can't you put that reader down for one minute."

"No."

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing you'd be interested in."

"It's not that one about the guy and the girl and the tie and the room?"

Alice's eyes flicker up from the reader for a moment, her voice indignant. "Please. Of course not." Her eyes catch Jessica's as she lowers her voice. "I read that one two years ago."

They both giggle, the distraction allows Rose to grab the e-reader. Alice protests but Rose holds her off as she reads aloud.

_"Lance's throbbing massive manhood hovered at the entrance to her wet walls, oozing with her honeyed juices. _

_'Please.' Sage begged him. 'Please, I need to feel you on the inside.' _

_ 'Are you sure?' He asks._

_ 'Yes, yes, yes!' came her rapt reply. "Fuck me like an animal." _

_He pushed his hard length into her sopping heat, penetrating her barrier with one firm thrust._

_'Uh, Sage, you're so tight.' He became impossibly harder as she clenched around his gigantic peen. _

_'Lance, please, fuck me. Fuck me hard' she cried, grabbing his firm supple buttocks as she tried to push him even deeper into her tunnel of love._

_ Lance set a fast pace, pounding into her hot core over and over as his free hand reached down to rub her…"_

Rose hands back the e-reader, her face a mixture of exasperation and disgust. "I really cannot believe my sister reads this shit. Honestly, that has to be the most unrealistic piece of crap I've ever read. I have those words burned into my retinas now. And did the author plagiarize a song? "

"Don't be such a prude, Rosalie. There's nothing wrong with a little erotica."

"Trust me, Ali, erotica doesn't bother me. Bad writing, however, does."

"That's not fair. You're taking it out of context."

"Out of context? When are wet walls of honeyed juices ever IN context?"

Alice ignored Rose but her stepsister wasn't finished. "And what is with the 'penetrating her barrier'? Is she supposed to be a virgin? I certainly don't remember my first time being like that. Right ladies?"

She looks to Jess and me for confirmation. "Please, your first time was the best out of all of ours. At least Royce knew what he was doing." Jess answers. I shoot her a look, trying to telepathically ask her what the hell she's doing saying _his_ name out loud.

Rose snorts. "Yeah, he knew it too well, didn't he? What's better: losing your virginity to another virgin or to an asshole, who after a year of dating, fails to ever mention that he has a pregnant wife and kid back in New Jersey?" The question is left unanswered.

Royce King was a deckhand on a squid boat out of Barnegat Light. The boat began offloading on the island during Rose's junior year of high school. She was seventeen, he was nineteen. He was handsome and charming and everything the local boys were not. Rose fell hard. She waited from Fall through Spring for that dragger to arrive once a month. Just when the season ended and he was about to return to New Jersey, Royce transferred to a Rhode Island boat. The pattern continued. Royce would show up for a few days and spend all his time with Rose. She convinced herself that he was her Prince Charming. She never thought to question where he was the rest of the time, every though draggers typically go out for much less than a month. She never questioned him if he didn't have money, she assumed the trip was a broker even though every other boat had a record season that year. I had watched first hand when Royce's pregnant wife showed up at the docks. She held a crying toddler while she screamed at Rose, calling her a home wrecker and much worse even though Rose had no idea Royce had a family in Barnegat Light. Her heart broke in front of the entire island.

Since then Rose, Alice, and I had avoided getting involved with deckhands. Almost all crewmembers my age were like Royce- transients from somewhere else. The ones who still lived on the island were mostly my father's age so it wasn't as though I had ever been attracted to them. Very few island boys of my generation planned to make commercial fishing their career. It was just too hard to make a living as a full-time fisherman.

Rose settled her gaze on Angela, determined to change the subject from her disastrous experience with Royce. "Have you and Ben done it yet or are you still giving that boy blue balls."

Angela turns beet red and looks down. She and Ben have been together for five years now but she is deeply religious, although in a personal, spiritual way. Angela, the daughter of the island's only full-time minister, is perhaps the most non-judgmental person I have ever known and I don't like when Rose gets a little blunt with her.

"Rose, you know both she and Ben agreed to wait until marriage. Don't make her feel bad about their choice. I think it's great they are so committed to each other." I defended, my protective instincts kicking in.

For all her forwardness, Rose does not have a mean nature and is immediately contrite. She quickly apologizes and Angela easily accepts.

"Angela was smart to wait. She and Ben can learn from all of our mistakes and maybe really enjoy their first time." Jessica pipes up.

"Yeah, don't forget the lube!" Alice looks pointedly at me and they all laugh.

I groan and rest my head on my hands, letting my hair fall around my face. There were times I really wished I had never confided in them.

"Hey, how was Bella supposed to know she had a hymen of steel?" Rose comes to my defense but I can hear the teasing laughter in her voice. "How many times did it take to break the super hymen? Two?"

"Three." I huff as I try to block the memory of my first college boyfriend, Garrett, grunting above me. He finally gave up and told me he couldn't get it in. The same thing happened the next time we tried. We were both naïve virgins who didn't know anything about how to make the experience easier. It wasn't until I broke down and asked Rose for advice that we were able to "overcome the barriers" puns intended in every single way.

"Three times before you got your cherry popped?" A deep masculine voice drawled from behind us. "He must really not have known what he was doing."

Oh.

God.

OH GOD.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

I closed my eyes in silent supplication. Please let me be hallucinating or dreaming or dead- hit by a rogue wave, anything but to be sitting in front of the crew of the Vampress. I froze. If I didn't see them, maybe they weren't really there.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rose's voice was cold and sharp as it cut through the silence that had enveloped us all.

"We heard this was the best beach on the island." Emmett's voice was so confident; you'd never have guessed Rose had turned him down less than twelve hours ago.

"Well you heard wrong. You won't like it here. There are no facilities and no booze. You should go to Ballard's with the other tourists so you can sit under an umbrella and order beer all afternoon." Rose made a shoo-ing motion with her hands.

"I think we'll stay here. The view is much, much better."

"You keep staring at my tits like that and the only view you're going to have is of my fist."

"Rosie…."

Emmett's voice faded in the distance. I was only remotely aware that I had grabbed my backpack and walked away. I kept moving further north from Mansion Beach towards Clayhead Bluff and the tidal pools. One good thing about living on such a small island: even though I was headed the wrong way, I could still get home in an hour and never have to go back. I tripped over a piece of driftwood lying close to the tideline.

"Bella…"

Shit. My stomach sank to my knees as I heard Ted call my name. I regained my footing and kept moving as though I hadn't heard him. Part of me wanted to stop. I wanted to let him catch up, despite my mortification. The other part of me didn't know how I'd ever face any of the Vampress crew again. I had always been so careful to keep details of my personal life private during the four summers I had worked at Newton's. I had never before been interested in a commercial fisherman. I always kept my conversations professional. I never talked about dating or my social life beyond a few vague pleasantries. Now, an entire crew knew the intimate details of how I lost my virginity. It was beyond mortifying.

"Bella…"

Ted. Ted had heard. It was bad enough that Emmett and Jasper knew but Ted… he was important. It bothered me that I cared what he thought yet I couldn't stop worrying. Did he think there was something wrong with me? He seemed interested last night, would this change things? I suddenly felt the need to explain. Ted was getting closer. I reached the beginning of the Clayhead Trail. I could turn and take it inland and try to lose him in the grouping of trails known as the Mazes that lead off the main path. Instead, I passed the path and kept close to the tide line. I stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Bella."

_A/N A little cliffie, I think you all can handle it. Hey, they are standing in front of a bluff, after all. Look for teasers on Fictionators and Ficcentral on Monday and Wednesday. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed- you reviews make my day! _

_Find me on twitter and I'll tweet you Duran Duran playlists filled with obscure b-sides and album tracks. What? No Hungry Like The Wolf? No- just no. shelly_duran (2 underscores)_


	9. Chapter 8 pt 2 Beaches, Bluffs and Maze

Beta- StacyO72- Special thanks for putting up with my international data access issues this weekend.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is

intended.

A/N Sorry, sorry, sorry this is late! I was traveling and it was non-stop family time as soon as we arrived. I was also very limited on my internet access since we were not in the U.S.

And watching lovers part, I feel you smiling

What glass splinters lie so deep in your mind

To tear out from your eyes, with a thought to stiffen brooding lies

And I'll only watch you leave me further behind- The Chauffeur, Duran Duran

Ch. 8 pt. 2 Beaches, Bluffs, and Mazes

"You know, you're not the only one to have an awkward first time."

Ted stood before me, his voice low and his head slightly bowed as he tried to get me to make eye contact with him. If I hadn't already been struck dumb by my mortification, the sight of Ted on the beach would have done it. Wearing only a pair of plain navy swim trunks, he was breathtakingly beautiful. My eyes traced the hard planes of his abs and chest up to the square set of his shoulders. He was utterly perfect: lean yet muscled, exactly my type. I lowered my head, focusing on the way his body seemed to grow organically from the elements surrounding him. His skin was slightly lighter than the pale soft sand while his hair matched the deep colored veins of oxidized iron running through the boulders scattered along the shore. The bright sunlight accentuated the slight smattering of hair on his chest. My eyes finally settled on the treasure trail below his navel that disappeared beneath his trunks.

"I mean I know it's not the same for a guy but it was still … well, I made a fool out of myself. I, uh, I was sixteen and I had just started working at my parents' country club. You know, caddying and odd jobs. Sometimes I worked as a busboy when they had parties."

"It sounds very High School Musical 2." I somehow found myself replying. I immediately cringed, what a stupid thing to say.

Ted just laughed. "Yeah, you're right; but without the spontaneous singing and dancing."

I chance looking up. Ted's eyes are soft and kind. "Do you want to keep walking?" He asks.

I nod and we begin slowly picking our way among the small boulders lying between the ocean and the base of the seventy foot bluff.

Ted clears his throat and continues his story. "There was this girl. She was at a function one night when I was working. Towards the end of the party, she starts a conversation with me. I didn't even recognize she was flirting at first. She asked me if I was in school and what year was I starting. I told her I was going to be a junior. It wasn't until after that I realized she thought I was in college, not high school. One thing led to another and we ended up on the tennis court." Ted pauses to clear his throat again. "Like I said, I didn't have um, the same sort of issues you did, but I never considered that she thought I was older than I was. I was also too naïve to think it was just a one-time thing. I figured she'd be my girlfriend and we'd go to homecoming and prom together. I had the whole year planned out in five minutes. I saw her again at the club a few days later and my age somehow came up in the conversation. It turns out she was twenty two and she was completely horrified that she had sex with a sixteen year old."

Ted pauses again and shakes his head. "She accused me of lying to her on purpose to get her to have sex. She twisted everything around. It was so humiliating. It turns out her father was on the board at the club. She threatened to have me fired and get my parents thrown out of the club if I told anyone. I never did, until now."

"What a bitch." I respond, as his words sink in.

Ted emits a humorless laugh. "Yeah. That's the girl I lost my virginity to. Every time I saw her at the club after that, she'd completely ignore me."

We continue past the bluff towards the tidal pools at Pots and Kettles. The ocean breeze picks up once we are passed the shelter of the bluff. I push my hair away from my eyes as I look up at him.

"In a way, that's worse than my story. I mean, Garrett was my boyfriend. He cared about me. We were just so inexperienced and he had these awful, cheap un-lubricated condoms he got as a souvenir from a bachelor party." I stop, not wanting to go into any more detail.

Ted nods, understanding without me needing to explain. "He's not still your boyfriend?"

His question catches me off guard. "Oh, no. We broke up last year."

I swear I see the edge of Ted's mouth lift for just a moment as he asks.

"So, are you seeing anyone now?"

There is no casual way to ask that question. My heart skips a beat as I answer. "No, no one. " I feel my face flush as I ask in kind. "What about you? Any other country club debutantes waiting back home." I inwardly wince at my lame attempt to lighten the conversation.

Ted's eyes pierce through me as his words echo my own. "No, no one."

We skirt around the tidal pools in silence, neither of us taking the conversation further. The quiet makes me nervous. It's not the peaceful calm of those comfortable in each other's presence, but rather the awkward reserve of two strangers just getting to know one another. I'm unsure of what to say next so I begin commenting on the sea life in the pools, the tide patterns, and the geography of this part of the island. All the trivial facts I've accumulated in two decades of island life bubble to the surface. I hoped I wasn't babbling too much. For his part, Ted seems interested, asking me questions as we continue our impromptu hike. As we walk further the bluff recedes in the distance and the topography flattens. The beach widens as we approach the island's north side. Houses become scarce. Finally, we reach Sachem pond, which marks the beginning of the Conservancy land.

"No squirrels?" He asks, repeating what I had just told him about the island's wildlife.

"No, no squirrels." I confirm.

"Chipmunks?" He smiles playfully and my stomach flips.

"No."

"Raccoons? Possums? Skunks?"

I laugh. "No, no, and definitely no. There are plenty of songbirds." I offer, pointing across the pond to a flock of small birds in the sky. "People come from all over to bird watch in the fall."

Ted nods. We are standing on a small spit of land between the pond and the ocean.

"This is my favorite spot on the island." I offer. Sachem ponds sits in a neat circle to the left, its calm waters reflecting the sky above. Green pastures and meadows neatly bordered by low stone walls lie beyond the far edge of the pond. Straight ahead lies the solitary North Lighthouse, rising from the dune grasses before the island's sandy pointed end. To the right, a large boulder known as Settlers' Rock sits on the periphery of a beach strewn with round stones of various sizes. A bronze plaque, its patina aged to a soft moss green, covers most of the front of the rock. The names of the original sixteen families who arrived on the island in 1661 are inscribed on its surface. Behind it, the Atlantic glitters its color reflecting the bright blue clear skies above.

Ted turns in a semi-circle, taking in the spectacular view.

"I can see why. I had no idea it would be like this. I almost expect a couple of hobbits to run by."

I laugh. "You're not the first person to compare it to Middle Earth."

I tilt my head, half hoping it will give me a view of what's going inside his.

"Are you a Lord of the Rings fan?"

He shrugs. "I read a few of the book and watched the movies but it's not like I can speak Elvish or anything."

I press on, realizing how little I know about him.

"No Elvish, so you weren't a geek in high school. I bet you were a jock."

He laughs. We begin walking towards Settlers' Rock. His hand quickly passes through his hair and comes to rest on the back of his neck.

"I played baseball, and a little golf. I tried soccer for a few years too but I wouldn't say I was a jock."

"Then what were you?" I try to keep my tone light, wanting him to open up more.

"I was a music geek. I played in the school orchestra and the jazz band. It's my major."

This surprises me. "You're a musician?"

"Yeah, I'm double majoring: Music Composition and Music Education. The education part was to keep my dad happy. He's a numbers guy so he wanted me to come out of school with a degree that will get me a job."

This is the first time I've heard Ted mention family. I don't think he's realizes he's opening up.

"What do you want to do?" I ask as nonchalantly as possible.

"My dream was to compose and conduct. I wanted to write scores- you know, for movies."

I nod, mulling over his use of the past tense. Is that no longer his dream? We sit down by the rock. I pull two water bottles out of my backpack, offering one to him. Ted thanks me and takes the bottle. The sun is directly overhead and even with the ocean breeze, it's still hot. If I were wearing anything more than a bikini top and board shorts, I'd be sweating profusely. I glance down at his long straight fingers -piano fingers my mom would call them- and my spine stiffens. He couldn't be that reckless, could he?

"What instrument do you play?"

He takes a long drink before answering. "To be Music Ed, you have to be able to play everything at least well enough to teach beginners. I can play guitar, violin, saxophone, and flute pretty well but I consider myself to be a pianist first."

"What the hell are doing on a fishing boat? I don't mean to sound harsh but have you taken a look at Jasper's hand? You could be risking your whole future!" The words tumble out in a rush.

Ted's entire demeanor changes. His jaw sets and his eyes harden. "The future? No one knows what might happen in their lives. It's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change. I can't worry about that now. My only concern is making it through the next trip."

His attitude does nothing but aggravate me more. "You should be concerned!" I insist. "You lose a finger or worse, then your future will most certainly change." I pause, considering his words. "So what is this? Some Generation Y life crisis? What makes a Midwestern college student majoring in music drop everything to join the crew of a longliner?"

Ted scoffs. "Yeah, that's exactly right. I had a crisis and called Carlisle so I could fulfill my dream of living on the edge."

"Carlisle." I repeat, his words clicking. "You knew Doc before you joined his crew. That's why you always call him by his real name. How?"

Ted stands and takes a few steps towards the rock. "You are observant. I didn't actually know him. I had a connection to him through someone I know. I contacted Carlisle through them. I wanted to try fishing and convinced him to give me a chance."

Ted places his hand on the top of the monuments and leans forward, ostensibly focusing on the names inscribed below.

I narrow my eyes, this just doesn't sound right and I can't keep the mocking tone from my voice.

"Doc Cullen agreed to take a complete greenhorn on his boat because you wanted to give the most dangerous job in the United States 'a try'."

Ted shrugs. He continues to study the names on the rock rather than look at me.

"Are you blackmailing him? Are you his long lost son or something?"

Ted's head snaps up and he stares at me like I have six heads. "That's absurd. Carlisle isn't my father . I told you. I know someone who knows Carlisle and they did me a favor."

I'm still not convinced there isn't something else going on. "Doc likes having an experienced crew. I saw every episode of Wild Boys. He doesn't tolerate mistakes."

Ted bristles. "I might be new but I'm a fast learner. Doc knows that."

His fingers trace over the raised letters of a name on the rock. I know the placement well enough that I don't have to look closer to see which it is.

"Is this you?" He asks, his tone leaving no doubt that the subject of him fishing is closed. I feel like I know less now than I did before.

"Jebediah Swan. Yep. He's my ancestor." I point to a few other names: Ephraim Black, Josiah Hale. "Almost everyone on the island can trace their roots back to the names here."

Ted absently shakes his head in confirmation. The tension between us is palpable. I want to go back to a few minutes ago when we were getting along so well. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to figure you out." I offer.

Ted straightens up and turns away from me. His shoulders are tense. "There's nothing to figure out. I just wanted to try something different."

"How long are you going to stay onboard?" I can't help but ask.

Ted shrugs. "As long as I want; this will be my third trip. I do well and I'll be full share next time." He shields his eyes from the sun and looks into the distance. "Can we go there?" He asks, pointing to the lighthouse.

"Sure, if you're up for it." I joke. There's nothing but flat open land between us and the granite structure. I get up and we start hiking out to the island's end.

I try another angle to get him to keep talking about himself. "Will you keep fishing this fall or go back to school?"

Ted shakes his head. "I'll keep fishing. I have enough credits that one semester won't really put me too far behind."

"What school?"

Ted furrows his brow. "What?"

"What school do you go to?"

"Oh, Concordia."

"In Montreal?" I never thought he'd go to school in Canada.

"No, not that one. This is a Lutheran college in Milwaukee."

"I haven't heard of it." I'm slightly surprised to find out he goes to school so close to his home.

"It's a really small school."

"Do you live at home or do you stay on campus?"

"I lived in the fraternity house last year. What about you? Are you going back this fall?"

I sigh. "Probably not." I briefly explain my scholarship problem.

Ted asks all the questions I've come to expect: why did they run out of funds, didn't they know that what happen?

"They knew the funds were getting too low. They aren't completely depleted yet. What's left is being allocated according to how close the recipients are to obtaining a degree." I explain. "My friend Rachel is starting her senior year so they gave her money but I'll be a junior so there just wasn't enough left for me. They tried to be as fair as they could. Besides, I'm glad Rachel will graduate. She'll move back here and then Jake, her brother, can enter the Coast Guard, like he's always wanted."

"He's the bartender, right? Big kid? I met him this morning when he did a dive to clear out some rope stuck in the prop."

"Yeah, we grew up together. He's like a little brother to me."

We reach the lighthouse which is mostly a tourist attraction now. The light still works but the building is operated by the town rather than the federal government. There are a few other hikers visiting but they leave soon after we arrive. We spend a few minutes enjoying the view. I point out Montauk on Long Island to the left and the Rhode Island shore straight ahead. We are surrounded by nothing but sand, dune grass, and ocean on three sides. Despite the serenity of the landscape, Ted is still tense, his body taut. I feel his hand, cold from holding the water bottle, against my sun warmed shoulder. I can't help but shiver from his touch. Ted moves his hand slightly, skimming my arm. The rest of the world falls away as our eyes meet. My fingers tingle with anticipation as I contemplate what it would feel like to touch his smooth jaw. Before I can raise my hand, he takes a deep breath and moves a hand to stroke my cheek.

"Thank you for this, for bringing me here. You've done so much for me the past few days. No one has been this nice to me in a long time." I tried to tell him it wasn't any trouble but he won't let me. "Bella, I wish…." He pauses, his voice thick with feeling. He sighs, closing his eyes. "My life is not what I expected right now and if things were different…" He stops again. When his eyes open, there's a sadness I wish I could make disappear. "I'm leaving tomorrow and I'll be gone for a month. When we get back, it will be the same thing: here for a few days then gone for another month. It's not fair to you." He drops his hand and steps back. "You deserve so much better than someone like me." He glances up at the sky. "I know we need to get back. I just wanted you to know, if I could I would pursue this, but it's just not possible now."

With that he turns and begins walking back the way we came. I'm stunned and more than a little disappointed. I follow behind him in silence, trying to figure out the best way to handle his revelation as well as his changing moods. I was even more sure now that Ted was hiding something. There was a reason he had suddenly decided to risk his career aspirations and put his life on hold to try longlining. I just couldn't imagine what it could be.

We reach Sachem Pond and we choose a shorter path through the Mazes instead of the meandering shoreline. It takes about half the time to get back to the beach area. Neither of us says much. His strange speech has left me reeling. I had forgotten the reasons why I began my trek until I saw Emmett sitting alone on our blanket. He's wearing shorts and a Dr. Seuss shirt that reads "One fish, Two fish, Fuck fish, You fish." The others are all in the water. I stop, suddenly embarrassed again as it all came rushing back.

Ted comes up behind me and speaks quietly in my ear. It's the first time he's said anything since we hit the trail. "You know, I'm sure Emmett thinks he was complementing you before."

I arch an eyebrow, causing Ted to smile. "No, really." He insists. "Emmett can be crude but he's actually not a bad guy. He's very salt of the earth. He always says exactly what he means. I think he meant that what happened wasn't your fault."

"A lot of fishermen are like that." I respond.

"Why aren't you out there?" Ted asks Emmett as we plop down next to him.

"Not my thing." Emmett looks up, he smiles sweetly when he sees me. "Bella, sugar, I want to apologize for before."

"It's o.k., as long as we never talk about it again." I reply.

"Deal. Except, would you mind making sure Rose knows I apologized?" His eyes dart over to where Rose is riding her board.

I accept. I grab my cell and look at the time. I need to go. "Will you be at the Wolf again tonight?" I ask Ted. I don't know why I ask, given what he's told me at the lighthouse. I hate being so pathetic.

Ted shakes his head. "I can't." I wait but he doesn't elaborate. He has shut down again. I nod before I say goodbye and head to Rose's truck so I can grab my bike.

All night at work, I keep one eye on the door, hoping Ted shows after all but he never does. Alice is giddy about Jasper, who is there again with Emmett. She flirts openly, secure in the knowledge that Rose is at the Mallory having dinner with their parents. The night can't end soon enough. I set my alarm so I won't miss Rose then collapse on the bed

I awake to a morning that is overcast and humid, the air thick with fog. It's a stark contrast to the past few days but it fits my mood. I throw on jeans and a sweatshirt and arrive at the dock just in time to witness Emmett's jaw hitting the deck as Rose makes her way on board. The fog does nothing to muffle his voice as it carries across the bulkhead.

"You're the observer?"

"Yeah, jackass. I'm the federally appointed observer for this trip. I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that NMFS requires vessels to periodically take observers on trips and that harassment of observers for any reason is a punishable offense. So, no smart remarks, no trying to see me naked and no touching. Got it?" Rose tosses her sea bag over her shoulder as she steps onto the ladder that leads to the quarters. She turns back "And no singing to me either. The top bunk is mine, so if you've got shit up there move it or I'm tossing it in the garbage."

"Fuck me." Emmett scurries after her as Jasper disappears into the wheelhouse, laughing hysterically.

The engine chugs loudly as the crew prepares to cast off. I can smell the diesel mixing with the salt air.

"Ted, check the stern cleats." I heard Doc call from the wheelhouse. Before I can react, Ted appears, his hair messy and a touch of stubble on his face. He removes the rope from the cleat, freeing the boat from its tether to the dock. He looks up and sees me. I try to smile and wave but it feels fake. I look down at my sneakers. Suddenly, I hear a thud and look up to see Ted striding toward me on the dock. His face is determined. I'm frozen in place, as though I'm bound to the dock. When he reaches me he cradles my face in my hands.

"I'm no good for you, I know that. But life is unpredictable and there's no guarantee I'll make it back so I can't leave without doing this."

He leans down and I feel his lips touch mine. They are soft and warm but not gentle. There is an urgency to his kiss and I find myself giving over to it completely. His tongue seeks mine and I'm lost and found all at once. My hands wrap around his strong shoulders as our bodies press together. Just like yesterday, the world falls away. He consumes all my senses and I never want to stop.

Ted breaks the kiss and I'm aware that Doc is shouting his name, asking for the all clear.

"Ted..." I gasp, more confused than ever.

"Edward. My name is Edward." He whispers before he backs away and jumps back on board. I stand there, surrounded by the silent fog long after the Vampress disappears in the mist.

A/N If you're confused about Edward then I did my job. You are supposed to be confused right now. However, I hope Ted's willingness to share his own virginity story with Bella makes up for her embarrassment last chapter. The next chapter will be EPOV and you will finally get a look into the boy's mind so many there will be a few answers and revelations. The angst is starting. Happy Memorial Day to everyone in the U.S. Due to my travel plans, I couldn't have an update for Fictionators and A Different Forest on Monday but I should have one for Ficcentral on Wednesday

Find me on Twitter: shelly_duran (two underscores)


	10. Chapter 9 - Purgatory

**Beta****- StacyO72- I keep her on her toes with my constantly changing tenses. I swear, I don't mean to do it or I didn't mean to or hadn't meant…..**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**.

**_Must be lucky weather when you find  
The kind of wind that you need  
C'mon, show me all the light and shade  
That made your name  
I know you've got it in your head,  
I've seen that look before  
You've built your refuge,  
Turns you captive all the same- Lonely In Your Nightmare- Duran Duran_**

_A/N First, I have some very exciting news! TUITML was picked as one of the four June favorite fics for TwiFic Trivia! Follow just4TFT on Twitter and play along Tuesdays trivia at 9:30 ESTand Wednesdays wordsearch. I almost earned a point this week – almost! Lonely In Your Nightmare is one of my favorite songs, Duran or otherwise. I've planned on using that quote for this particular chapter since I began this story. I'm sneaking some more fishing stuff in on this one. I know. I keep doing it. Speaking of sneaky, this will answer some questions but most are still unanswered. Ch. 10 will also be EPOV. Follow me on twitter: shelly_duran (2 underscores) Thanks again for your reviews! My lovely beta, Stacy, is reading right along with me and we might just convince her to start writing again. _

Ch. 9 Purgatory

Setting out; it is a tedious process.

There are almost one thousand hooks and two hundred buoys to connect to the mainline. I watch as Jasper and Emmett bait the hooks: alternating between boxes of thawed mackerel and squid, hooking them so the heads are hanging down, which better attracts the predators we ourselves are hunting. The hooks have a leader, a smaller line with a clip, which attaches to the mainline. Four baited hooks are evenly spaced on the mainline and then it's my turn. I attach a cylindrical shaped buoy that keeps the mainline floating at the right depth to catch tuna and sword. The buoys are bundled in packs of six. When I finish a pack, it's time for a hi-flyer. Jasper calls them beeper buoys, Emmett just calls them fuckers. They are radar beacons seated on a long aluminum pole extending out from a round buoy. Each beacon transmits its own unique radio frequency. If the line somehow gets separated or split, we can find it using the beacon. A lost line means thousands of lost dollars, not just in fish but in the equipment itself and in the fuel used to find it. It's my responsibility to know which hi-flyers we use and when and where they are set.

After almost six hours, we are close to finishing. Behind us, in the Atlantic, we've unspooled forty miles of clear 2.8 mm 650 lb. test mainline from what looks like a giant fishing reel mounted behind the wheelhouse. A hydraulic motor located below deck controls the reel, known as a super spool. We use the motor to not only set out, but to haul back. It unwinds and rewinds the line at a constant pace.

The mainline is now neatly divided by those baited hooks, buoys and beacons. Before we began, Carlisle spent half a day analyzing electronic temperature charts and data to find the thermocline the spot where the warmer Gulf Stream water meets colder northern currents. He even went so far as to drop a thermometer down sixty feet. The electronics measure only the surface temperature and he wanted to make sure it was the same below. A change of just ten degrees was the difference between a hold full of sword and a deck full of worthless blue dogs. After almost twelve days off shore, we have completed three sets. We had a decent haul the first two times but the line drifted into colder water during the third one so it was a bust. You know it's bad when Carlisle says fuck almost as much as Emmett. Carlisle doesn't like hauling back empty hooks and he is determined not to repeat the bad set. I've learned that a good yield would be about thirty fish from one thousand hooks. It sounds like so little but thirty fish equals at least ten thousand dollars. If we're lucky, it may be ten times more. That one Bluefin tuna last trip was worth more than that. So far, even being only half-share, I had managed to earn close to fourteen thousand dollars in just two months. I didn't really care about the money even though I knew I should. It couldn't permanently solve my problems but it could buy me a temporary escape if I needed to get away quickly. Aunt Esme was so sure that this was the safest place for me, but "safest" is a relative term. There was no true "safe" place, not now, maybe not ever. I still couldn't wrap my head around it all.

"Ted! Buoy!"

I snap back to the present. My name was also Aunt Esme's idea. It was similar enough to my actual name that I'd react when I heard it, but at the same time, people didn't necessarily connect Ted with Edward. I was supposed to tell them my full name was Theodore if they asked: Theodore Platt from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Edward Masen Jr. had disappeared from Chicago, Illinois ten weeks ago and his whereabouts were unknown.

From the look on Emmett's face, I can tell he has already called for the buoy more than once. I quickly clip it onto the mainline. It takes another fifteen minutes before I clip the last beeper of the set and it's disconnected from the spool. Emmett and Jasper head below to the quarters where dinner is already waiting. I lean against the railing and take a long drag of my cigarette while I gaze off into the distance. The sun sits low in the horizon. We have traveled almost three hundred miles off the coast of the United States to a small canyon Carlisle considers a sweet spot. There is nothing but darkening sea around us. The halogens affixed to the wheelhouse roof will soon be the only illumination for miles. We'll let the line drift overnight and haul back in the morning. I've got eight hours I will spend trying not to think. I flick my cigarette butt overboard and watch as it drifts away from the Vampress.

"Those things will kill you." Carlisle stands beside me, his own cancer stick glowing in the semi-darkness.

"Only if I live long enough." I can't help but smirk, although there is nothing funny about my statement.

"You'll get through this. Esme was right to bring you to me." Carlisle's voice is soft and low. "As long as you stay off the grid, they can't find you."

I reflexively look over my shoulder. I know the others are down below but even so, I don't want to talk about what led me my current refuge. I attempt to re-direct our conversation.

"Why didn't you get married?"

Carlisle stiffens beside me. He takes a drag before answering with his own question. "You don't know?"

"I know her side. I want to hear yours." I reply.

"What did she tell you?" His voice is rough. In the two months I've known my long-lost godfather, I've never broached this subject.

"That she gave you an ultimatum and you chose wrong."

He huffs at my words. "She still thinks I had a choice. I didn't." He pauses, gazing out at the shadowed clouds framing the setting sun. "You've heard of the Perfect Storm." It's not a question.

I nod. "Yeah. I even saw the movie. It was o.k."

Carlisle laughs. "The movie was shit. I was there. I lived it." He tosses the remnants of his cigarette overboard and grips the railing with both hands. I wait. I've got plenty of time for his story.

"I met Esme about a year and a half before. She was backpacking around New England for the summer and ended up in Gloucester. Your parents had already gotten married or else I'm sure your mom would have been with her."

I wince and nod. Fuck. I push my memories of the last few months down into my subconscious.

"I was a cocky kid. I'd like to think I wasn't an asshole although I'm sure some of my former… conquests might disagree." He glances over to the door leading inside. We're all watching what we say and how we say it while Rosalie is on board. "I had a lot of confidence when it came to girls. It seemed so easy. I'd smile, give them a few compliments, next thing you know, I'd have a new friend for the night. I'd go back out fishing a day or so later and we'd both move on with our lives. Esme wasn't like that. She saw right through my bullshit." He smiles, lowers his head and shakes it, remembering what was literally a lifetime ago for me.

"I wasn't longlining yet. I was still a deckhand on my dad's dragger. We'd go out for a few days, fill the hold with cod, then come right back. The trips were short, never more than three or four days. Sometimes my grandfather would still come out with us." He looks over at me, his eyes sincere. "Fishing really is in my blood. I'm a sixth generation Gloucester fisherman. I don't know any other way to live."

I nod, sensing how important that fact is. "So you fell in love." I offer.

He smiles. "She'd be at my favorite bar whenever I got into port. I'd spend all my time trying to get her to admit she'd wanted me. I was so busy convincing her she was crazy about me that I didn't realize how hard I'd fallen for her. She was smart, feisty, and sarcastic but at the same time, she had this compassion for others. She wrapped me around her little finger. Esme is my first and only love."

"Present tense." It is a moment before I realize I've said the words aloud.

Carlisle's eyes meet mine. "Present tense." He sighs. "The first year was fantastic. She had already graduated from school and got a job in Rockport at one of those chic little interior design shops. She wasn't more than a gopher but it was a foot in the door and she was close by. Then, I started longlining. The money was so much better than dragging and I loved it. It was my type of fishing. I like the hunt, the fight between man and beast. I could never go back to just hauling up a net full of groundfish. But longlining trips are so much longer. Esme hated being apart. She moved in with me so that we could spend every minute I was home together. It was as close to domestic bliss as I'd ever get."

He reaches over and tousles my hair. I'm startled by the affectionate gesture. "Your parents were still in New York. They came to visit a few times before they moved back to Chicago. Ed and I hit it off, despite being from such different backgrounds. Esme and Lizzie couldn't have been happier that we got along. You were born the next June. Esme being your godmother was never a question, she and Lizzie had been best friends since they were twelve years old. I was surprised when they asked me to be godfather but I was also honored. We flew to Chicago for the ceremony. While we were there, I asked Esme to marry me. I had bought the most ostentatious ring you'd ever seen. It was exactly what some idiot twenty-two year old with too much cash would get his girlfriend. Regardless, she told me she loved it. We were supposed to get married that December, after the end of the Grand Banks season." His face grows grim.

"I was out on the Hannah Boden when the storm hit. Back then there were no satellite phones, no email, nothing but sidebands to keep us connected and they have a limited range. Esme had no idea if I was o.k. or not until we finally got into port. She couldn't take it. The news was full of reports about the Andrea Gail's disappearance. She told me she couldn't marry me unless I stopped fishing- not just longlining, but fishing entirely. Well, you know the rest. I chose wrong, according to her but I couldn't live if I didn't fish. It's my entire existence."

"You never found anyone else?"

"I never wanted to. Don't get me wrong, I'm no celibate monk. I'm still a cocky bastard when it comes to women, but Esme's the only one I'll ever love."

"Does she know?"

"It doesn't matter. She believes I chose fishing over her. I hurt her and she hasn't forgiven me."

"Yet she hasn't found anyone else either."

"Really? You could have fooled me when she married that asswipe." Carlisle's voice is laced with venom.

"I'm surprised you even know about it. That was an impulsive Vegas wedding that was a mistake from the beginning. They were married less than three months over ten years ago. She probably just did it to prove she could." I add, because that was so Esme. She will do the exact opposite of what you want her to do as some sort of misguided demonstration of her independence.

Carlisle grimaces. "Your parents kept me informed. Your mom never gave up hope that we'd get back together. You're right of course. I saw her just before she did it. We argued. I tried to convince her that I could be with her and keep fishing. She didn't believe me. I didn't hear from her again until she showed up with you in North Carolina."

"Richie, Doc, y'all eating? I can't keep Emmett out of the chili forever." Jasper's head pops out from behind the wheelhouse door. We tell Jasper yes and head down below.

_JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ JJJJJ_

It's almost time for everyone to wake up. I'm in my bunk, listening to the sleeping sounds of my crewmates. The four crew bunks sit in an L shaped space against the paneled walls of the quarters. Rosalie is in the bunk above me. Emmett and Jasper are next to us. Carlisle has a private captain's quarters just over to the right, next to the washroom, which is called a head on a boat. A small galley kitchen with a table attached to the wall rounds out the area. A modest flat screen t.v. with a dvd player is mounted above it. It's an efficient use of such a small space. I mull over my earlier conversation with Carlisle. I hadn't really known much about him before. I certainly don't think of my godfather as my uncle the way my godmother is my aunt. The fact that he was the star of a reality t.v. show just adds to the enigma that is Carlisle Cullen. He hasn't been completely absent from my life. Over the years, I would receive birthday cards. Sometimes they contained a check, other times there would be a gift. I got a Mako shark jaw for my eleventh birthday, which at the time was the coolest fucking gift ever.

Now I remember the look on Aunt Esme's face and understand why she hadn't been enthusiastic when I opened the box. I can't help but think it's ridiculous that Carlisle and Esme's relationship hasn't worked out. I'm not as naïve about love as I had been back when I lost my virginity but I still believe that some people are meant to be together, like my parents were. Esme might hate me for thinking it, but after spending so much time with Carlisle over the past few months, I can't help but take his side. He is a born fisherman. His nickname, Doc, was earned because of his skill with a knife. He can head, gut, and fillet a fish faster than anyone else and he does so with the precision a brain surgeon. How my aunt could think he'd be able to do anything else was beyond me. So, instead of getting married, they have spent literally half of their lives apart. Life is too short. Every day is a gift. I snort quietly. Maybe I've been here too long. I sound like Jasper when he's spouting off his twelve step rhetoric.

I get up and make the coffee. We will easily go through several pots today. Hauling back will take time. At least we will be so busy that I have to focus on my job. I had tried to sound apathetic when Bella cautioned me about losing fingers but the fact is I am terrified I'll do something that will cause a permanent injury. My music career is the furthest thing from my mind but I still hope that I'll somehow get through this insanity and get back to having a normal life again. I go through the motions of grabbing breakfast as the others start to wake up. We all eat quickly, knowing there is a lot to do. We throw oil gear and neoprene boots on over our clothes. Emmett relieves Carlisle in the wheelhouse so he can sleep for a couple of hours while we're doing the prep work for the haul back. Rose mutters something about shark tags and disappears above deck. Jasper heads to the engine room while I go check the hold to make sure nothing has shifted overnight and the empty pens are ready to be filled. I glance over at a Bigeye tuna, packed in sea ice and it reminds me of Bella eating sushi.

Bella. I close my eyes and pretend I can see her face in front of me. I have tried to ignore the pull I feel when I am with her. I don't want to drag her into my crazy existence. She deserves to be safe and free. It's selfish of me to want her. I don't know how it happened. I had barely taken notice of her that first day in port. She seemed like all the others. Emmett called them the wet panty brigade. It was crude but also true. It didn't matter if they were twenty or forty, Carlisle's fan girls were the same in every port. It was bizarre seeing all these women cream their shorts at the sight of my godfather. That night in the bar, I recognized her immediately but she wasn't our waitress, at least not at first. Then she walked over and called me Richie and Jasper and Emmett had to have their fun. Milwaukee was Esme's idea too. Apparently, I have a strong Chicago accent and most people on the East Coast can't tell one Midwestern accent from another. I was strung so tight by then, it was the last fucking thing I needed. I had been in such a fucking panic over those two Russian girls, scared to death, unsure if they were really Romanian and I was being set up. I guess mid-western accents aren't the only ones that are hard to tell apart. It wasn't until one mentioned Kiev that I realized it was just a coincidence. Still, everything bubbled to the surface and I had to get the hell out.

Jasper calls down to me and I confirm everything looks good in the hold. It's time to get up on deck and start chasing down our mainline. I edge over to the starboard side and wait while Emmett steers us in the direction of the last beeper buoy. He thinks it will take us another twenty minutes based on the radar position. The ocean is mostly flat, only small swells break against the hull and I'm grateful that I no longer need seasickness pills like I did on my first trip. I stare out ahead hoping to spot the buoy and my thoughts turn back to girl I met on that little island.

I didn't give Bella a second thought until we were in the office and I heard what sounded like an orgasm from behind her desk. I had never thought of sushi as erotic but damn if that sound didn't go straight to my dick. That was the first time I really paid attention. Her face flushed and her eyes, those deep brown eyes, just locked onto mine and I was lost. After that, it was a continuous battle between what I knew I wanted and what I knew I should do. I knew I was being schizophrenic around her. I'd flirt shamelessly, she'd respond and then I'd feel guilty and try to shut her out. I tried to keep her at arm's length but I didn't want to and I wasn't strong enough to fight the urge. I was giving myself whiplash, I can't imagine what I was doing to her.

The lighthouse had been a breaking point. Between the thoughts in my head over her revelation about losing her virginity, her hiking in front of me in those skimpy little shorts that nicely hugged her ass and the way her tits looked in that bikini top, I couldn't keep my head straight. I wanted her so badly. I did what I thought was the honorable thing and told her we couldn't get involved. I spent all night convincing myself it was the right course of action only to keep returning to the idea that I might never see her again. Life is short. Live will you can. As much as that whole YOLO thing had become a cliché, it was true, particularly in my circumstances. When I saw her in the fog that Sunday morning, my feelings overwhelmed me. Suppose I did die on this trip? Suppose they did find me? I wanted her. I needed to feel her. Most importantly, I wanted her to know me. It was selfish, yes but I was sure she wanted it too.

"Beeper! Dead ahead! I heard Jasper call out. I push all the thoughts from my head, as I grab a gaff and prepare to haul back.

_A/N Look for teasers on Mondays on Fictionators and A Different Forest and Wednesdayson Ficcentral. _


	11. Chapter 10 The Long Haul

**Beta- StacyO72 – She is more than an editor, she is practically a co-writer. The end of this chapter is so much better than the original version because of her inspiration**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_Days of innocence_

_Are behind me_

_All I've left is_

_My adult life_

_Lots of time left_

_Left to move up_

_Trust the ceiling_

_Trust the process- Trust The Process, John Taylor (from Feelings Are Good and Other Lies Album)_

_A/N - Just a quick reminder, if you don't want to read about fish being killed, don't read this story. _

Ch. 10 The Long Haul

"Mako!"

The wind carries the sound of Emmett's deep voice across the deck. Rose lets out a whoop. We have already hauled back approximately four hundred hooks with a yield of seven albacore tuna and sixteen swords, including two double markers. A marker is a swordfish that weighs at least one hundred pounds so the double markers are over two hundred each. With sword, the bigger the fish, the better the price. The mako is the first shark we've had on the line today, unlike the last set when the colder water put us in the middle of a school of blue dogs. Those small sharks are worthless to us but Rose tagged four hundred as part of her research for the NMFS. If Rose wasn't here, we would keep the mako since its steaks are valuable, although not worth as much as sword or tuna. We haul it aboard with a winch attached to the line rather than with the gaff poles. The poles pierce the skin and could damage the fish, which normally wouldn't be a concern if we were killing it. The mako is long but lean.

"It's a female!" I hear Rose call out. I have no idea how she is so sure. I must say so under my breath because Jasper answers me. "It doesn't have claspers."

"It doesn't have what?"

"Claspers- Shark cock." He imitates Rose's New England accent so that the two words rhyme.

"Yeah, they got two dicks." Emmett offers.

"Just like this boat." Rose counters, looking pointedly at Emmett and Jasper.

"Hey, why me?" Jasper whines.

"For making fun of my accent." Rose replies as she readies the large needle that will attach the special satellite tag to the fish's dorsal fin.

Under my breath I whisper, "Good thing she doesn't know you screwed her sister."

Jasper's suntanned face pales as he mouths back to me "_Alice_?"

I nod. I can't help but smirk. I knew Jasper didn't know they were related.

Before Jasper can reply, the shark is released from the winch and begins thrashing on the deck in front of me.

"Richie! Watch the mouth!"

I back up as it tries to attack me with its multiple rows of teeth. My childhood memories of slicing my finger on the jaw of the Mako Carlisle had sent are enough for me to listen without hesitation. I know how sharp those teeth are.

Emmett comes up behind the shark and sits on it cowboy style while Jasper grabs hold of the tail. I hurry over beside Jasper and put my hands on the beast's back. We struggle to hold it still.

"Get the fuck off my shark!" Rose yells at Emmett. "It's not some bucking bronco at a country western bar, you fucking hick!"

"No, it's a lot fucking stronger and its teeth are much fucking sharper. You want me off, then you better get that goddamn tag in!" Emmett yells back. Jasper and I both collapse onto the deck to better hold the shark down as it continues to fight.

Emmett gives the mako a good tap on the head with the palm of his hand and it immediately calms.

"Now!" He calls to Rose.

She inserts the injection needle and tags the shark. Rose had previously explained that the experimental GPS monitor will provide real-time information about the shark's migration patterns. Emmett taps the head one more time before he puts his hand in the danger zone and swiftly removes the circle hook from the shark's mouth. One flick of its head and Emmett could easily lose a finger.

In seconds, we've got the mako back in the water. I sigh with relief. I definitely don't like sharks. I've seen enough marine life in the past two months to make me doubt I'll ever be able to swim in an ocean again. There are some scary monsters in the water.

There is no time to catch our breath. Carlisle has already begun hauling back the next fish. We work feverishly. When the hooks are empty, we remove them as quickly as possible to get to the next. When the line is heavy, signaling a fish, we grab our gaffs and haul whatever it is out of the Atlantic. So far, in three trips I've seen plenty of sword, tuna, and sharks. In addition, there is the by-catch. Some like mahi-mahi and escolar, are edible species worth keeping. Others, like sea turtles and albatross are the reasons why environmental groups don't like longlining. The turtles almost always live, the birds usually don't. Carlisle has taken every precaution there is to avoid killing untargeted species. We use circle hooks instead of J hooks, we set at sunset so birds are less attracted to the bait, and we monitor water temps to stay away from unwanted species. I've learned a lot about fishing, more than I ever thought possible. The amazing thing is although my knowledge has increased dramatically, I still know so little.

"Ted! I need a new saw!"

I look over to where Carlisle is heading and gutting a sword. His dark orange oilers are covered in blood and fish guts. I quickly grab a new saw from where they are neatly hanging against the wheelhouse wall, make my way across the blood splattered deck and hand it to him. I threw up the first time I saw Carlisle like this. I tried to play it off as sea-sickness but I don't think I fooled anyone. Before I joined the crew, I hadn't seen anything gorier than an uncooked chicken in real life. I had been so sheltered. Since then, I had seen Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle each decapitate living creatures in front of me. I had yet to do it myself. I had no skills with sharp weapons. This was the part that wasn't shown on those reality shows: the part where a saw slices the head off a fish still taking its last gasping breaths. They are all fast and efficient when they kill. It is brutal, raw, and yet also honest. They say fishing is the second oldest profession. Despite the joke, there's a deep truth to the words. Fishing is the last link to our origins as hunters/gathers. All other aspects of civilization have been tamed. We grow our food, we raise our livestock. Sure, aquaculture exists, but it's not on the same scale. If you want a tuna, you have to catch it.

I return to my position where the door has been removed from the starboard railing. Emmett stands a few feet away near a smaller winch that directs the mainline once it reaches the deck. He stops the super spool with a handheld controller each time Jasper and I haul up another fish. Rose has a gaff in hand and is helping with getting them on the deck. She has done nothing but impress us all. Having an observer that grew up on boats is a big advantage. She is our fifth man, so to speak, although from the way Emmett keeps checking out her ass, there is no mistaking her gender. I don't know what he can actually see. She is wearing the same oil gear we all wear: dark orange overalls secured by black suspenders with Grunden's printed in gray. The pants are so thick they pretty much stand up on their own. They are the opposite of body hugging. Unless he has x-ray vision, he can't see a thing. Maybe, he's really Superman hiding out on a fishing boat like Henry Cavill in the latest movie. I snort to myself, an image of Emmett in tights entering my thoughts.

Jasper looks at me curiously and I just shrug. There's no more time for conversation as an oddly shaped fish breaks the surface, reeled in by our mainline.

"Holy Shit!" Rose exclaims.

The fish is round, with a diameter of about three feet. It is an opalescent color, I'm sure a girl could think of the right shade, but to me it's just a weird orange. There are small white dots over the entire body. It has fins in the usual places: one on each side, one on top that extends back to the tail, along with another underneath. It has large round eyes that are already flat, indicating the fish is dead on the line.

"What is that?" I ask.

"Moonfish!"

"Sunfish!"

Jasper and Emmett simultaneously call out.

"Which one?" I ask confused as they stare at each other, ready to argue yet again. I've learned that, on board, they are only argue about insignificant shit. Otherwise, the two work in tandem, each almost anticipating where the other needs to be. The night at the bar, Carlisle told the other fishermen that Jasper and Emmett were _good men to have offshore_. Bella's dad explained that some guys are screw-ups on land but out here, they are in their element. I know now what that means. On board, listening to the guys has saved me from making potentially deadly mistakes more than once yet on land neither seemed to be able to function.

"It's an Opah." Rose calls out, grabbing her cell phone from under her oilers to take pictures. "It's gorgeous."

"Oprah?" I can't help but think of the famous talk show host.

"OPAH! O-p-a-h!" Rose huffs and enunciates each letter. "Depending on where you're from it's called either a moonfish or a sunfish or even Jerusalem haddock. We don't often see them this far north. It must have come up in the Gulf Stream."

"Uma!" Carlisle calls back. We all just look at him.

"You know… Oprah…. Uma?" He shakes his head and says something about us being too young.

"I just call 'em tasty." Emmett chimes in. "They're damn good eatin'."

"So good, that it will be worth selling." Carlisle adds. He has finished gutting the previous fish and stacked it with the others needing to go into the hold.

Jasper and I work together to remove the circle hook from the fish's mouth and bring it over to where Carlisle is working on deck.

"That one gets sold whole. Some restaurants like to display it before they cook it." He indicates we should put it with the other fish he has already finished gutting.

The time flies by and soon the last hi-flyer is brought aboard. We end up with almost forty fish, a tremendous catch for one set, and everyone is in a good mood. Rose has volunteered to cook tonight so Jasper, Emmett and I work together to pack the fish in the hold. We fill the gutted stomachs with saltwater ice, which stays colder than regular ice, and then carefully arrange the fish in layers of more ice in each hold compartment, or pen. Pen boards, thick wood slats, are fit into grooves at the front of each compartment to prevent the contents from moving. A pen must mirror the one across from it. From the very first set, Emmett, Jasper, and Carlisle have all explained to me the importance of keeping the weight in the hold evenly distributed. If the catch in the hold shifts, it causes the boat to list and even in calm seas, a listing boat is susceptible to sinking. One rogue wave would be enough to roll and sink it in a matter of minutes.

"Oh baby, that smells fan-fucking-tastic!" Emmett shouts out as we crowd around the round table in our quarters.

"You call me baby and you'll be eating gurry instead of spaghetti." Rose's words bring him down a notch. The threat of being accused of sexually harassing a NMFS observer has him paranoid.

"I didn't me you specifically, it was just a general baby, you know like oh man or oh boy. Yeah, I meant oh boy." Emmett backtracks.

Rose shoots him a glare than laughs. "Relax, Mayberry. I knew that."

Emmett puffs out his chest. "I'm from Tennessee, not North Carolina."

"No difference." Rose retorts as the rest of us fill our plates. I'm starved and it does smell delicious. We all tell her so before we dig in. Emmett returns to their conversation after a few big bites.

"Big difference. I grew up in Gatlinburg, right on the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains."

"So you're a coal miner's daughter or son. Sing it for me Lorenzo Lynn." Rose doesn't try to hide the condescending tone in her voice.

"That just shows your ignorance. There isn't any coal mining anywhere near Gatlinburg anymore. The last person in my family to work in a mine was my great-grandfather. Gatlinburg is a tourist town, the Smoky Mountains National Park is there. It's not that different from the little town on Block Island. Vacationers are what keep the town in business." Emmett pauses as he shovels down a forkful of spaghetti. "There's not much else to do there except work in a hotel or some other tourism business."

"Isn't your dad a Park Ranger?" Carlisle asks.

Emmett nods as he refills his plate. "Yeah, and his dad was too. I could have but I wanted to try something different. We vacationed in the Outerbanks every fall after the camping season was over and I loved watching the fishermen on the docks. We'd go fishing on the head boats sometimes and I always liked it. After high school, I figured I'd try commercial fishing for the summer and it's all I've done ever since."

"Well, for a mountain man, you're a natural born fisherman." Carlisle raises his beer in salute.

"Thanks, Doc. That means a hell of a lot coming from the legend himself." Emmett actually looks bashful for once. "I'm sure plenty of people never would have believed Emmett McCarty would have made it as a longliner."

"So what's with the hillbilly name?" Rose bluntly asks. I'm still not used to her straightforward manner. Even coming from a city like Chicago hasn't prepared me for the way New Englanders speak.

Emmett doesn't seem at all offended. "It's a family name. I was named for my great-great uncle Emmett. He was supposedly a real hellion back in his day: moonshiner, gambler, and brawler. He disappeared while hunting up in the mountains. All they ever found were some scraps of cloth covered in blood; no body. They figure it was a bear or a lion that got him."

"Maybe it was a sasquatch." Jasper jokes as he gets up to clean his plate. We each take care of picking up after ourselves, that way no one can bitch that others aren't pulling their weight.

"Or a werewolf." Carlisle adds as they all laugh. "Or a vampire!"

"No, not a vampire. What would they being doing in the backwoods? They'd be hold up in some castle in Transylvania." Jasper responds as though he's put some serious thought into the matter.

Transylvania is in Romania. I freeze. The sudden thought catches me off guard. I look down at my empty plate, the recent past boils to the surface. I push my memories back down as I catch Jasper's eye. I swallow hard, desperate to focus on something else.

"You grew up with it, didn't you?" I ask him. "Fishing, I mean."

He nods, his shaggy hair bouncing in confirmation. "Yep. My dad and granddad were both shrimpers. We didn't own any boats or anything but being a deckhand in Galveston was a pretty good living until that damned fucking oil spill."

"You didn't receive any compensation for that?" Rose asks. We are all moving around the quarters, cleaning up the galley and the table. Meals never take long on board.

Jasper laughs bitterly. "Well, my dad did all right but I wasn't so smart. It's kind of hard to ask for a settlement when you have no proof of income, if you know what I mean. I had a girlfriend who liked to spend money plus I had my own bad habits."

Carlisle claps him on the back. "We've all been there, kid. I was lucky I had…" he falters and looks at me. I know he was about to say "Ted's dad" but instead he chooses his word carefully, "a friend who knew about taxes and set me straight early on. If I hadn't, I never could have appeared on t.v., the I.R.S. would have been all over my ass in a minute."

Rose nods, like she's heard it before. She grabs her bag and points to the head, "I'm taking a shower." She looks right at Emmett. "The door will be locked so don't even think of accidentally forgetting I'm in there."

"Trust me, I won't forget that you'll be in the shower." Emmett replies.

She pulls a padlock and key out of her bag and smirks. 'Oh, I definitely don't trust you."

"A padlock?" I can't help but ask.

"I've never seen any boat ever that has a lock on the head. I figured it was a good idea to pack my own." Rose opens the door to the compact bathroom and promptly closes it behind her.

"Weird chick but she's a good man on deck." Jasper mutters. We hear the water turn on. "She's really Alice's sister?" He asks in a low voice.

"Step-sister." I clarify.

He nods. "That makes more sense."

"You like Alice?" I ask, curious more because it keeps us talking, which means I'm not thinking.

"She's cool. I don't think she interested in anything more than a good time, which is alright." Jasper tends to wear his emotions on his sleeve and I can tell he's really feeling the opposite.

"Is it?" I push. I've finished the dishes and climb onto my bunk. Jasper leans on his while he considers his answer.

"Can't blame her for not wanting to get involved with someone like me." Jasper lowers his eyes and glances at his tattoo covered arms. "I've done a lot of stupid things in twenty-six years. Between not paying my taxes and then getting involved in drugs, I've got a lot of baggage." He stretches out on the top bunk and lets out a sigh. "If it's meant to be between me and Alice, or me and anyone else, it will be. Trust the process, I guess." He taps on the inside of his right elbow and I know he is tracing the needle mark scars that his ink covers.

"One day at a time, brother." Emmett quotes one of Jasper's favorite AA sayings back at him.

"A lot of fishermen have made those same mistakes. It's tempting having all that cash at such a young age. Captains know this and some try to help out crew members, like Doc here." Jasper nods towards Carlisle. "He's walked through the twelve steps so many times with me, he's probably got arthritis in his knees. These days, some boats are their own floating AA meetings."

"I guess I can see how it would be like some child star or musician suddenly having a ton of money at their disposal and crashing and burning." I say realizing how similar the situation is.

"Yep. You know what they say, rock stars and longliners- y'all can't tell the difference." Emmett quips, breaking the sudden tension that's filled the cabin. He's good at that I realize. He doesn't mean to be an asshole, he's just the kind of guy that doesn't like negative emotion and uses whatever humor he can to break it up. "We setting out again tomorrow, Cap?"

"I think so. I need to make sure we stay on this warm eddy. The next weather chart should show if it's going to break off or not. Four more sets like today and we're looking at a banger trip. I need to email the tally to Bella at Newton's then I'll take the first shift in the wheelhouse. Ted, you come up with me, it's time you learned how to drive a boat. Emmett, you'll relieve us in five hours."

I follow Doc up the narrow staircase to the wheelhouse. Like the quarters, its walls are paneled. There are various types of electronics everywhere. The single sideband radio is attached to the ceiling, a computer monitor is bolted to a counter, with the tower bolted to the floor below. Radar screens, the VMS transponder, chart plotters, fish finders, weather satellite, bilge alarm, instrument panels, the auto pilot, and various other machines crowd every open space. All are secured down. I try not to think about the type of wind and waves it would take to roll everything around. The wheelhouse is a misnomer. There is no big old ship's wheel like in the movies. It's just a few levers that move the boat forward or backwards. A large swiveling leather captain's chair and one smaller swiveling chair crowd together behind the thrust levers. I sit in the smaller chair. We are still anchored at the starting point of our last set. Carlisle wants to check the temperature data again before deciding whether or not we want to set in the same spot or move. First though, he moves over to the computer and opens the email program. I can see him squinting like he can't read the screen.

"You all set there Carlisle?" I ask as he compares the crumpled sheets of paper with the handwritten tally to the computer screen.

"Damn software changed again. Why can't they just keep it the way it was? All the buttons are moved around. I can't even figure out where to enter Bella's email address.

My ears perk up at the mention of Bella and an idea forms in my head.

"Carlisle, I can send the email if you want." I offer.

Carlisle looks relieved. "That would be a tremendous help. That way I can get started on the temperature charts."

I walk over and take a look at the screen, quickly figuring it all out. I type in the data. As I do I notice the signature at the bottom of the screen: _F/V Vampress 1 Latitude: N 39° 27' 0" Longitude: W 72° 12' 0". _

"Carlisle, why is the location of the boat on the email signature?" I ask nervously. I know the VMS charts our position at all times but unless someone hacks into the NOAA system, I'm fairly positive we can't be found any other way.

"The email is part of the VMS; it's the same software, Boatracs. It's the only way for us to communicate this far off shore without using expensive satellite software." He doesn't look up from examining a radar screen.

"Oh. Um, do we really need to send Newton's a tally? I mean we should probably wait until we finish the trip right?" I know my voice betrays my nervousness.

Carlisle raises his eyes to meet my mine. His voice is calm and reassuring. "They don't know to look for you here. There is no way they can find you. You are safe."

"What if they link us somehow? I was thinking- there are church records of the baptism, right? What if those records have been scanned and archived online? They could find out you and Esme are my godparents. I'm using her last name. It's not hard to make the connection between us." I pause, swallowing hard. "I'm not cut out for this cloak and dagger shit, Carlisle. I'm a goddamn college student, a pianist, not some secret agent. I have no idea where my dad is or if he's still alive. I miss…" I stop, too choked up to say it. I know I sound like a fucking baby who misses his mother. I _am_ a fucking baby who misses his mother.

Carlisle walks over and puts his hand on my shoulder, the same way he had with Jasper earlier. "Edward, you have been through hell. No one who knows what happened could blame you for feeling paranoid. The government had a responsibility to keep you and your parents safe and they've failed. Until we can figure out who can be trusted and who can't, you will stay here with me. Only Esme and your dad know where you are and they would die before betraying that secret. As for Ed's whereabouts, Esme would let us know if something has happened. You will get through this. The Romanian police will capture that bastard. Someone in that town will turn on him, he can't control them all. Once he's in jail with his brother, it will all be over."

I nod, I know what he says makes sense. Still, even hearing him talk about it makes me nervous. I take a deep breath and get myself under control.

"Can you send Bella the email?" There is a glimmer in his eye, and I know he saw that kiss on the dock.

I nod. I still think it could be risky sending our location in an email but the thought of being able to talk to Bella, even if it's just electronically, excites me in a way nothing has in months. I need one good thing in my life and right now, it's her.

_A/N So this is late but trust, me this version is much stronger than the first one. I really didn't like the way that one ended. It was, as I said to Stacy, meh. She gave me an idea this morning and I went with it. I'm much happier with the results. Also, I just want to mention that although I'm not sure how long this will be (maybe 30 chapters?) I do know the plot and how it will unfold. A while ago, I saw /read a few different news reports that provided the inspiration for what happened to Edward and his family. I haven't seen anything similar in any of the Twifics I've read so I'm hoping this is an original idea that hasn't been done a hundred times before. I know the commercial fishing part is pretty unusual. _

_ The Lemonade Stand is having an angst contest. I believe the submission period is from 15 June- 30 July. I am currently trying to persuade Ms. Stacy to do a collaboration with me on a one shot. It's an anonymous contest but you can let people know you've entered. TLS had an angst trivia night last night on Twitter (o.k. ANOTHER reason why this chapter is late). Follow them at TLSAngstContest. Thanks to Dreamweaver94 for letting me know I'm never going to win any Twitter contests if I don't upgrade to Tweetdeck and Google Chrome. I will do what I have to. Trivia is serious business for me and Stacy. In fact, she is one of the only Duranies I know who can beat me in DD trivia. _

_ Don't forget to check out Just4TFT's 9 pm EST Tuesday night trivia and 9:30 pm Wednesday word search. Tangled Up In The Mainline is one of the featured fics for the month of June. _

_ Since this chapter is late, I haven't started ch. 11 so I'm not sure if I will make the deadline for The Fictionators on Monday but check the comments section later on. I am also posting teasers in the Monday sneak peek cf on A Different Forest and on Ficcentral on Wednesdays. Follow me on Twitter and watch me swear in Italian when I miss a trivia answer: shelly_duran (2 underscores). OH! I made a snarky comment about Great White Shark sightings off Cape Cod and was retweeted by the Cape Cod Daily News! LOL! _


	12. Chapter 11 Anticipation

**Beta- StacyO72- She battled through a multitude of problems with her laptop last night to get this chapter ready and she did it on Benedryl. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_A/N First, the HUGE NEWS: Tangled Up In The Mainline was nominated for  
a fic of the week at The Lemonade Stand! Thanks to Sunflower Fanfiction for  
the nomination. Voting has ended. The story was trading places between five and  
six with another fic so I'm not sure if it will make the final cut. Regardless, the exposure has been  
fantastic. Welcome and thank you to all  
the new readers who have found this little story! Teasers were a complete fail this week so my  
apologies. I had trouble with this  
chapter but I think we are back on track.  
It was a little hard getting into BPOV again plus I was pretty much a  
useless pile of goo once DiorRob was unleashed.  
I might not survive once the actual video is released. There is "Flagrant use of Rob's tongue"  
according to Mtv's blurb about it. **Runs around fangirling like Mrs. Newton  
and Jessica**_

**Ch. 11 Anticipation**

_We spotted the ocean at the head of the trail_

_Where are we going, so far away?_

_Somebody told me this is the place_

_Where every thing's better and every thing's safe- Walk on the Ocean, Toad The Wet Sprocket_

Mondays: no one likes Mondays but this one was especially odious. The sky was a lugubrious grey. Overnight, rain had pounded the island while heavy winds shook the telephone lines outside my window, causing them to screech like a banshee's wail. I had slept fitfully and woke twenty minutes late. Subsequently, I was twenty minutes late to work. Let's face it, on an island so small that bicycles and mopeds make up over eighty percent of the transportation, you really can't use traffic as an excuse for being late. The same goes for the line at the coffee shop or any reason other than your own ineptitude. Luckily, Mr. Newton was usually pretty easy-going about such things. The rain was still coming down in sheets so I drove my truck the short distance from my house to Newton's. The deluge was the remnant of Tropical Storm Somebody which had traveled up the coast from where it landed in the Carolinas. Despite the miserable weather here, I was secretly glad that the storm had not gone offshore and caught a certain longline boat in its path. I parked in front of the "Company Vehicles Only" sign and ran into the plant yet still managed to get soaked in less than ten seconds.

I had no sooner removed my rain jacket when I noticed that crab cop, Officer Cox, and his new partner, Officer Small, were back in our plant again. Ugh, I really couldn't stand that guy. Beyond the imperious attitude, there was something about him that was just skeevy. I knew there was no way the ferry was running today so they must have come over last night before the storm rolled in. I groaned. With only two wholesale fish companies on the island, they would be up our asses all day until the weather cleared and they could return to the mainland. I could see they were standing with Mike and Harry Clearwater, who owned the dragger F/V New Moon. Harry's daughter Leah was a year behind me in school. She had the fortune, or misfortune depending on your outlook, of being the only girl in a class of six students. His son Seth and the other members of his crew were standing just inside the plant, next to the overhead door, which was up, as always when fish was offloaded. The plastic strip curtains covering the opening flapped loudly against the door frame as the wind tossed them back and forth. I could just make out the faint beep of a forklift echoing outside on the bulkhead.

Totes of fluke sat before our state of the art electronic floor scale. Last week's landings had put the fluke quota at almost ninety percent and now all the plants and boats in the state were being closely watched to make sure the quota wasn't exceeded. If regular cops paid as close attention to crime, drug dealing would be eliminated. The Fisheries Department treated Fluke as though it was a more valuable contraband than coke or heroin. Fishing for it would probably be closed by Wednesday and would stay closed until the beginning of October. It was just as well. This type of close scrutiny did nothing but aggravate us all. Mike caught my eye and signaled me to join them. Despite being inside, the air was so filled with moisture this close to the ocean that it felt as though I was walking through Jell-O. The concrete walls and floor did nothing to alleviate the damp conditions. Puddles of water, dark from fish fluids, covered a few uneven spots on the floor. I pulled my Newton's Fish thermal lined hooded sweatshirt tight around my body as I approached the group.

"Hey Bella, Officer Cox was looking for our exemption allowing us to sell fluke in 100 lb boxes instead of the normal sixty. Do you know where that is?"

I nod politely, mumble something and retreat to the office to get it. I know that frigging ass Cox is already aware of the fact that we have a packing exemption because I showed it to him when he was here last week. We are allowed an exemption because we export fluke sometimes and one hundred pounds was the preferred weight for overseas customers since they would convert to kilos. Locally, the fluke had to be sold in sixty lb. totes or boxes, which is the domestic industry standard size. This makes it easier for the cops to catch violators since they can quickly estimate the weight of the total catch based on the number of boxes. The constant checking and re-checking of licenses and permits is done with the hope that we will forget to renew one of our many documents and they can catch us in a potentially costly mistake. Fines for violations mean more money in their department's coffers.

While I am giving Cox the information, Officer Small just stands there, gawks at us, and tries to avoid touching anything. I'm tempted to accidentally splash her with the dirty puddle water, but I'm just not that mean. It takes another forty minutes to get the cops completely satisfied and out of the building. I'm sure they will be back later, although with the entire day boat fleet plus most of the offshore draggers in port due to the storm, they will be busy. I grab a cup of coffee in the galley and finally sit down at my desk. Mr. Newton has already been to the post office to get our mail from the P.O. box. There is no mail delivery on the island. I'm grateful he went because I really don't want to go back out into the pouring rain. I sort through the stack and take care of a few other tasks before I realize it is almost eleven a.m. and I haven't checked email. I open the program and start to scroll through, expecting the usual Monday morning assortment of Fisheries department updates and Export program news. When I get to the bottom of the list, I feel my heart quicken. I have an email from the Vampress. My finger hovers above the mouse. It's just the tally from Doc. He had told me he would email me half way through the trip. I click and begin to quickly skim through the tally. I notice the numbers are good. If they can repeat it for the last half of the trip, it should be profitable for everyone.

I let my eyes linger on the words for a second before I scroll down to the bottom of the page. I am hoping that maybe if I take long enough, what I'm wishing for will be there.

It is.

_Bella,_

_Hey, this is TED. Carlisle can't get the email working so he asked me to do it for him. Actually that's not quite true. I mean, it's true that he can't get the email working but I volunteered to send it. I wanted to get the chance to talk, even if we are 400 miles apart. I hope you are o.k. with what happened on the dock. That's not quite true either. I hope you wanted that to happen as much as I did and I wanted it a lot. Do you remember the last thing I said to you? Could you please not mention that to anyone? I know you're probably confused by the way I've been acting. It's just that I know getting involved with someone like me isn't in your best interests. I tried to do the right thing but I'm selfish and I'm tired of trying to stay away from you. Damn, this is becoming one of those letters where every sentence starts with I. See, I am selfish. Carlisle said if we keep catching, we should have about four more sets before we can start steaming back to port. Do you think you might like to have dinner with me then? We'll only be in port for a few days and I'd like to spend as much of that time with you as I can. Your friend Rose is doing a great job on board. She has been helping us with the catch when she isn't sticking needles in sharks. I think Carlisle would hire her if he could get her to quit her observer job. Carlisle is looking at the weather charts right now and it sounds like you'll be getting a storm in a few days. I hope it's not too bad on that tiny island of yours. _

_Be Safe, _

_TED _

I read it twice, then once more. The email was sent on Friday night. I notice the coordinates immediately. I can't help but turn to the map of the Northwest Atlantic taped to the wall near my desk. It has grids for longitude and latitude as well as depth measures and various markings for obstructions. Block Island is surrounded by objects like "Unexploded Ordinance 1981". Most people have no clue how many bombs and torpedoes are sitting on the ocean bottom just off the East Coast. Fishermen take heed of the charts because dragging those things up could kill you. If it doesn't, then there's a good chance you'll have to abandon ship and watch the Coast Guard blow up your boat to get rid of the things. A few years ago, a New Bedford clam boat dragged up mustard gas canisters from World War I. That caused a huge havoc. The crew had to be quarantined, the catch of over 500,000 lbs. of clams destroyed, and the boat decontaminated. Before I can stop myself I've taken a push-pin and marked the spot where _N 39° 27' 0" Longitude: W 72° 12' 0". They are fishing in Hudson's Canyon, a popular spot for commercial boats._ Since it's been almost three full days, I know they probably aren't in the same spot but I'm also sure they aren't more than 100 nautical miles from where they had been when the email was transmitted. I trace an imaginary line from the push-pin back to where Block Island is on the map. His email is as confusing as he is.

I close my eyes and recall the best kiss of my life. My stomach flips and my nerves tingle as I remember the feel of his hands holding my face as his lips pressed against mine. I trace my bottom lip with a single finger. Yes. Yes, I most definitely wanted it to happen as much as he did. I smile to myself as I turn back to the computer, read the email yet again and attempt to reply. There were definitely some strange things about that boy. The last words he had said on the dock were "Edward. My name is Edward." Yet now he was asking me to not mention it and that point seemed emphasized by the way he used uppercase to write TED not once but twice. Instinctively, I knew he was hiding from something or someone, despite his insistence that he just wanted to give fishing a try. Something was off. He had repeatedly said he wasn't good for me and that I should stay away from him yet from everything I could see, he was an average Midwestern college student from a middle class family. O.k., he also happened to look like a Greek god but that wasn't reason to suspect he was a dangerous character. Of course, my panties might disagree. I shift in my seat and focus on the email.

Hi TED,

Thanks for the tally. It looks like the trip is going to be a good one. I'm glad Rose is proving to be an asset on board. I doubt she would ever leave her current job, but I know she would be flattered by Doc's offer. He was right about the weather. We're in the middle of a tropical depression right now. It should be gone later today, and other than being wet and miserable, we're all fine. So, it sounds like you should be back here in about ten days? I believe I should be free for dinner then. Actually, that's not true, I know I'll be free. I also know that you aren't being selfish if I want the same thing. Then it's just the two of us pursuing what we want and yes, I wanted that as much as you did. As for your request, I think I understand what you're asking me TED, but I deserve to know why. We can talk about it more when we aren't four hundred miles apart. I hope that will be soon.

Take Care,

Bella

I look over the email, satisfied with the way I've mirrored my response to his original, and press send.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"So when will the Vampress be in?"

Alice is sitting across from me at picking at her organic free-range grilled chicken salad or whatever it's called when the food supposedly lived a happy life before it arrived on your dinner plate. Between our schedules, this is the first chance we've had to get together in weeks. It's a warm breezy Saturday and we're having lunch outside on the deck of a restaurant up in New Harbor, which is slightly less crowded than Old Harbor since the only ferry that docks here is the small one from Montauk. All the other boats in the marina are privately owned.

I finish the bite of fish taco I was eating and reply "By the end of next week; I heard from them twice so far and it looks like they've got two more sets to go plus it will take a couple of days to steam back."

"I don't know why you guys still use that archaic term. It always makes me laugh."

"Well, I guess it's better than saying they're going to diesel." I take a long sip of my ice water. I really wanted a margarita like Alice's but I know how expensive drinks are on the island and I really need to save every penny or I won't have enough money to go back to school this semester.

"Did you hear anything about Rose?"

"Actually, Ted said she's been doing so well that Carlisle wants her to join the crew."

Alice laughs loudly. "Yeah, like that will ever happen. Of course, it would be so ironic- the girl who hates fishermen becomes one."

"She doesn't hate fishermen, she just doesn't want to get involved with one. Can you blame her?" I add, knowing that Alice witnessed the same clusterfuck with Royce that I did.

"You know I don't blame her but at the same time, I don't think it's fair for her to lump every deckhand together just because she met one jackass. I mean, fishermen aren't necessarily cheaters any more or less than say, lawyers or doctors are."

"But you have to admit, fishing as a profession makes it easier to get away with it. It was over a year and Rose never suspected."

"She was also seventeen for most of the time they dated. She was naïve, we all were. Hell, Big Jim and Miranda were acting like bunnies and we didn't know until I came home sick from school." Alice shudders at the memory.

"Where are they today?" I ask, surprised that Miranda has closed the shop early on Saturday during tourist season.

"They're checking on the farm. It's almost harvest time. Big Jim seems to think he can win the competition this year" Alice rolls her eyes when she mentions the island's favorite secret contest.

I laugh. "What do you expect from a bunch of hippie children and sea pirates? Wasn't your mom born at Woodstock or something?"

"She was a toddler. Did you know her middle names is _Rights_? _Miranda Rights Brandon_, I guess she was born right after it became a law. My grandparents are so weird." She sighs. "You're only laughing because the party isn't at your house. If you had to clean up afterwards, you'd hate it too. The house smells like skunk for days. Why doesn't your dad stop it? I know he knows about it."

"Because Mary Alice Sunshine, if he stops it, he can't win and besides, what's he going to do? He'd have to arrest half the town council. It's harmless."

Alice wrinkles her nose at my use of her full name. "You're helping me clean up this year, then you'll see how harmless it is." She pauses and I can tell there is something on her mind.

"What?"

"Jasper. He's in recovery." She pushes the last of her salad around on her plate.

I'm not sure where she's going with this. "O.k., you know a lot of fishermen have drug and alcohol problems."

She nods. "He said it's been three years. He seems really committed to it." She fidgets with her napkin as she speaks.

"Alice, that's great but I don't see how it matters. I thought you weren't interested in him for more than sex?" I watch her body language closely.

"I thought so too. The day we were at Mansion Beach, you took off with your hottie. Rose was busy with that guy Emmett, first yelling at him to apologize to you and then trying to act like she didn't like all the attention he was giving her."

Alice and I share a look. We both know how much Rose likes being the center of attention, especially male attention. She continues. "Rose really didn't notice that Jasper and I were spending so much time together. We hung out all afternoon, just talking. He's really cool, very zen when Emmett isn't pushing his buttons. I know you saw us flirting at the Wolf that night. We went back to his room at the Mallory after…."

She trails off.

"And had hot sex all night?" I fill in the blank. Miranda raised Alice to be very open about sex and she usually is so reticent about the details. It's the exact opposite of the don't ask/don't tell policy Charlie and I still adhere to.

"Intense, it was really intense. I mean, yeah, he is just as hot as I imagined; that ass…"

"O.k. work with the guy, don't need to know." I interrupt.

She giggles. "I was just going to say he is as good-looking with his clothes off as he is with them on. I know you aren't into that look but the ink over the hard muscles: yum."

I smile, happy that she is so happy. "You're going for round two when the boat docks?"

She sighs contentedly. "Definitely." She finishes the last of the margarita, slurping loudly from her straw, not caring about the unladylike noise. "And what about you and this Ted guy? Any fucking going on?"

"Alice!" I hiss as I look around but there is no one sitting close by. "Lower your voice! I don't want the whole island knowing my business."

"What? You were gone for over two hours! It could have happened." She shrugs her shoulders, completely nonplussed by my reaction.

"Well, it didn't. Nothing happened that day. He did kiss me the next morning on the dock. It was…" I pause, pushing my plate away. "It was..." I struggle to find a way to describe it without using fuck or hot. I fail. "It was the most fucking amazing hot kiss of my life."

Alice squeals. "I knew it! I knew you would get it on with him! It was so obvious, the body language the two of you have."

I knit my brows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"At the Wolf, at the beach, you're always leaning in towards each other when you talk and he looks at you like he's picturing you naked."

"He does not and of course we lean in, he's got to be almost a foot taller than I am!" I'm sort of offended. Alice just accused Ted of Rhett Butlering me. O.k. he had once, but it wasn't like it happened all the time like it does with Doc and every female he sees.

"He totally does! Look at your face, you're all red. Don't worry about the height differential. There are plenty of positions that will accommodate for the differences, trust me. Do you want to borrow my mom's copy of the Kamasutra?"

The waitress comes over just at that moment to hand us our bill. Thankfully, if she did hear Alice she has the decency to pretend she didn't.

"Alice!" I bury my head in my arms and mumble. "Please keep your voice down. In fact, please don't talk about it at all. If we get to that point, I'm sure we'll be just fine."

Alice huffs in exasperation. "O.k. whatever. I'm just trying to help you get laid. So, is this just about sex or are we both completely abandoning Rose's pact?"

"I'm not sure. Physically, he's perfect, but it's more than that. He's not like any fisherman I've ever met. Ted is an enigma. There's something about him that's mysterious and dark and as much as I should just focus on my own life right now, I can't stop thinking about him." I tell her what I know about his background and his career hopes. We finish paying and walk back to our bikes, hugging as though we won't see each other again in a few hours.

Several more days pass with the usual flurry of work and more work. It's becoming increasingly apparent that I won't be able to afford to room and board, even if I do manage to scrape enough together to cover tuition. Mike Newton, of all people, gives me some advice about taking classes online. Apparently, he is half way to getting his degree. I make a note to check into it soon. There's another email from Ted. It's brief but it even so, it gives me butterflies.

Bella,

We just finished the last set. The catch was pretty good, despite the mainline parting and us losing several miles of gear. Carlisle wasn't too happy about the gear but the good news (for us) is that we'll need to order replacements so it looks like we'll be in port for at least a week. I plan on spending all my time hanging around some fish house office. I hope you're o.k. with that. We should be in sometime on Thursday evening. I still plan on taking you to dinner. Maybe you could get the night off work?

Thinking of you,

TED

I'm grateful that Carlisle didn't think to tell Edward to ask me to order the supplies and there's no way I'm going to suggest it. I quickly reply. I tell him that I can probably go into work late, rather than take the whole night off. The truth is, Billy would give me the time, but I just can't afford to lose the money. Also, the thought of having an entire night free to spend with him both excites and terrifies me. My brain keeps sending out warning signals about this guy. He is hiding something. I can't believe that he's done anything wrong. There is something innately good about him despite his sometime callous attitude.

I am still mulling over these thoughts Wednesday morning when I get to work. I open the door of the office and a distinct musty odor of fish overwhelms my senses. Without going any further, I already realize that one of the gillnetters is here with a catch of monkfish. No other fish carries that musky almost sour fishy scent. I'll need to shower as soon as I get home tonight because that aroma will permeate every layer of clothing I'm wearing. I try to keep busy and not think about the fact that the Vampress is due into port in just over twenty-four hours. After filing the bi-weekly catch report with the state and federal fisheries offices, I head over to the post office to get the mail. I get a few odd looks from the tourists there and I know it's the monk stench. The locals are used to people smelling like fish and they all recognize me anyway. I deposit the checks from yesterday at the bank and I grasp that I must really smell because even Mrs. Stanley isn't her usual talkative self.

It's unusually muggy, despite the sea breeze, and a fine sheen of sweat covers my skin. My hair feels huge, like 1980's big, thanks to the humidity. I throw it up in a clip I always keep in my bag. I bike my way back to the plant, the mail and deposit slip in my backpack.

I'm no sooner through the glass door to my office when I feel hands grasp my shoulders and whirl me around. I panicked for just a minute until I focus on the green eyes and bronze –brown hair I know, even as my eyes take in the unfamiliar beard covering his face. I raise my hand to touch it. The beard is surprisingly soft as I run my fingers along his jaw.

I want to ask him what he is doing here, it's one among a thousand other questions going through my mind, but his lips cover mine and all conscious thought leaves me.

My backpack slips to the floor, making a dull thud that seems miles away. His arms enclose my waist as he lifts me up to his height, our mouths never parting. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his body, pressing him closer as our mouths open to each other. "Soft, warm, wet, more," are the only thoughts in my mind as his tongue glides across my bottom lip urging my lips to part further. I am barely aware of the concrete wall hard at my back, the feeling of his silken hair as I run my fingers through it, or the God awful smell of fish, as the rest of the world again falls away and our tongues twine together.

We finally part, our breathing hard, our foreheads still touching.

I catch my breath enough to whisper one word, "Edward."

_A/N Find me on twitter shelly_duran (2 underscores) The clam boat story is real. Yes, you can google it. I didn't really need to, I knew the captain. In fact, his brother was the proud owner of the Pog Mo Thoin shirt that inspired Edward's wardrobe choice. Thank you for all the reviews last week! I'm looking forward to reading more. For those who think I need more readers: I am your h00r, pimp me. ;-) _


	13. Chapter 12- City By The Sea

**Beta- StacyO72- She understands my deep and abiding love for the word lugubrious just as I understand hers for lave. You get them both in this story. Also, she knows that instrument in Last Chance On The Stairway is a marimba. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Ch. 12 City By The Sea **

**I don't remember quite how I met you, **

**Wasn't long ago**

**Just get a picture of sun**

**In your eyes, the waves in your hair**

**Maybe it's something said in a movie**

**Or you could've said last night**

**Just took me out on a limb**

**And I don't really know what I'm doing here- Last Chance On The Stairway, Duran Duran **

"Edward".

It feels so good to hear Bella speak my name, my real name. The only thing better than hearing her is feeling her soft feminine body pressed up to mine. Her hair is up, giving me easy access to her neck. I waste no time, kissing a line along her jaw to a spot just below her ear. My hands slide down from her waist to grab her ass and hoist her up higher against the wall. I moan a little as I kiss her neck over and over. I know she likes it. She's breathing hard and squirming against my dick.

"Edward, I stink."

I stop, laughter overcoming me but don't pull away from her. "And I don't? I smell like the inside of a fish hold for a reason."

I inhale deeply as my nose grazes her skin. I honestly can't distinguish any odor. "You smell good to me."

I return to her lips, kiss her softly between words.

"Like flowers." Kiss.

I try to think of types of flowers:

"Roses." Kiss.

"Freesia." Kiss. _Freesia?_ Where did I get that from? I don't even know what the fuck that is. I move on to other scents:

"Lavender." Kiss.

O.k. that's a dead-end, I try something else.

"You smell like strawberries." Kiss.

I try to think of another sweet-smelling fruit but my hands are cupping her ass and she's grinding into me. I can't focus.

"Mango." Kiss.

She giggles and pulls her head back. Her smile is beautiful.

"Mango? You are so full of it. I stink like monkfish and I'm covered in sweat. If you can't smell it, then you've been in here too long."

I glance down, giving Bella a good once over. She is flushed, her skin damp and warm. She's wearing a dark green tee with _Newton's Fish _embroidered on the upper left corner, and denim shorts. A few stray strands of hair cling to her neck. I nuzzle that same spot below her ear again and flick my tongue.

"Mmmm. You taste sweet and salty, like the ocean. Besides, I thought women didn't sweat, they glow. At least, that's what…" I pause, not wanting to finish with _'my mom used to say_.' So instead, I end with "I've always heard." If she notices my hesitation, she doesn't mention it. I give her ass a little squeeze as I push my now obvious erection against her.

"Bella, you feel so good." I murmur before I lean down and kiss her deeply, only stopping when we are both panting. Her arms are wrapped around my torso as her hands roam up and down my back. I shamelessly grind against her and am rewarded by her low moan. I want to hear that sound over and over again and I tell her as much. She responds by crashing her lips against mine, our mouths part, tongues touch, and we kiss for what simultaneously feels like forever and not long enough. I vaguely register the sound of a door opening across the building but it is enough for Bella to push me away. She slides down and steps away just as the door opens again and whoever entered returns to the plant floor.

"Relax." I say as close the space between us and embrace her. Her hands instantly wrap around my shoulders.

Bella nods but explains. "I really don't want to get caught making out at work. A lot of these guys know my dad and I don't want anything getting back to him before I get a chance to tell him first."

I sigh, stealing one more kiss, before I agree.

"What are you doing here today? Don't misunderstand, I'm definitely happy to see you but I wasn't expecting it."

"Oh, I lied in my last email. I just wanted to surprise you. I knew we would be in too late today to offload so I figured it wouldn't matter if I gave you an ETA that was about twelve hours later than we'd really be here." She gives my bicep a playful slap but I can tell by her smile that she isn't really mad.

"Since we're not going to pack out until tomorrow afternoon, I'm free tonight. I'd love to take you to dinner, if you'd like."

She agrees and I know I'm smiling like an idiot. It's been so long since I've felt this happy that my cheeks actually hurt. It's Wednesday and she isn't working at the bar so we will have the whole night together. I can't help but hope she'll want to stay with me at the hotel tonight. She sits down at her desk and I find a copy of National Fisherman and settle down in a chair in her little office. I spent more time staring at her than I do reading but she doesn't seem to mind. As she works, entering data into her computer, and shuffling papers around the desk, she fills me in on her month. I tell her a few stories about the trip. She laughs when I recall how Rose yelled at Emmett for sitting on 'her' Mako. Eventually, Emmett and Jasper join me in the office just as the envelope containing our last two trip checks arrives by FedEx from Volterra Seafood. Apparently, Volterra has worked it out with Newton's and the local bank so that Jasper and I can cash our checks without an account or I.D. The three of us are just about to walk over to the bank when Rose appears in the doorway. Emmett lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees her.

"Hey Rosie! Missed me already, didn't you? "

Rose tosses her hair, ignoring Emmett, and wrinkles her nose "Ugh. Monkfish." She turns her attention to Bella, who is still seated at her desk. "You aren't working tonight, are you? I thought maybe you, me, and Alice could go out."

Bella has no poker face. I was already pretty sure she didn't but this clinches it. She turns bright red and stammers out a succinct "I can't." as her eyes dart between me, Rose, and the wall. After spending the past month with her on an eighty-five foot boat, I know that Rose has a pretty low opinion of fishermen as anything more than work partners or friends. Still, I can't help but feel offended that Bella doesn't tell Rose she'll be with me. It doesn't matter that I haven't had a girl reject me since that first time at the country club. The memory still feels fresh. My ego is wounded and I react without consideration of anything but my self-esteem.

"About that Bella, what time should I pick you up for our date?"

Emmett and Jasper's heads whip up in perfect synchronicity. "Date? Aw, it's like you're Richie's Mary Beth."

"Emmett, you ass, it was Lori Beth, not Mary Beth." Rose's voice is sharp and hard. Jasper laughs. She crosses her arms and glares at us all.

"Babe, don't be jealous. We can be Joanie and Chachi. Their romance was far more epic." Emmett gives her his best dimpled smile.

Rose gives him a look of disbelief before turning back to Bella.

"I wanted to go to Newport. You're seriously giving up a night out with your best friends to date some deckhand?"

Before Bella can answer, the door from outside opens and Alice walks in.

She looks at each of us. "What's going on?"

Jasper speaks before the rest of have a chance to reply. "We're all going on a triple date to Newport tonight."

"WHAT?" Five voices join in unison.

"What, what? It's the perfect solution. Rose wants to go to Newport. Richie and Lori Beth want to go out on a date and…" Jasper pauses and walks over to Alice, taking her hand in his. "Alice and I do too."

"What the fuck, Alice?! Do you know anything about this guy?" Rose looks infuriated.

"I know enough to know I want to get to know him better." Alice replies, never taking her eyes from Jasper's.

"That's cute. You realize what you'll find when you do: a former junkie with tax problems." Rose huffs.

"You forgot high school drop-out, redneck, and tattooed freak." Jasper stands a little straighter and faces Rose down. Toe to toe, they're almost the same height.

Alice does that eyebrow thing girls do and puts one hand on her hip. "Rose, you need to stop judging people based on what Royce did. Jasper has been clean for three years and he's working to save enough to get his tax lien removed. Regardless, we've just met. Right now, we're just having fun getting to know each other. Maybe you should do the same instead of comparing every fisherman you meet to that asshole."

Rose looks shocked. I get the feeling she isn't often at the receiving end of a lecture.

Emmett puffs out his chest. "What did this guy do anyway?"

Rose protests, saying she doesn't want to discuss it but Alice ignores her and tells us how this Royce douche kept her in the dark about his wife and kid in New Jersey.

"Rose, you can't compare a fine specimen of manhood like myself to some Yankee knuckle dragger from Barnegat Light. I bet he didn't even graduate from high school."

"Hey!" Jasper protests.

"Calm yourself, Jasper. You're a shrimper from Texas, no one expected you to graduate eighth grade let alone high school." Emmett squeezes between Rose and Jasper so that she has to look him in the eye.

"Give me a shot. Come on, it's one night with four other people."

Rose's eyes never waver. "I don't shit where I eat."

"Baby, as much as I want to get to know you better, I really don't need to know about your hygiene habits. I just want to take you to dinner."

Rose huffs. "Fine! But I'm only going to keep an eye on these two losers." She points to Jasper and me. "We'll need to catch the five o'clock ferry. Make a reservation at the Commodore Room at The Black Pearl for six thirty and make sure you clean up. It's a nice place, so no frigging naked girl shirts."

We all look to Emmett when she says that. His shirt features a very well-endowed pin-up girl wearing a barely there stars and stripes bikini. She is holding a fishing pole attached to a blue marlin, which she also happens to be riding. The slogan _Support Your Local Hooker _covers the top of the shirt.

Emmett looks offended. "These shirts are quality works of art."

Rose gives him a condescending look. "Airbrushing is not fine art."

I catch Bella's eye while he is talking. I really wanted to spend time alone with her but maybe this is better. She can't ask me questions if we're with everyone else. She still looks uncertain. I understand why when she speaks.

"The Commodore Room? Rose, that's really expensive. I can't afford that."

"Bella, I asked you, you're my date. I'm paying, don't worry about it."

Bella rolls her eyes so I wave the envelope containing my paycheck for the last two trips. I know she is aware that I've made close to fifteen thousand dollars. She had been the one to make the arrangements so the bank would have enough cash on hand to pay the Vampress crew. That cash would be burning a hole in my pocket within the hour.

She acquiesces. "Fine, you're paying. So we're all staying over in Newport?"

"We are?" I ask, not sure how this scenario has happened but I'm pleased nonetheless.

"The ferries stop running after seven. I know just where we can stay!" Alice explains while practically bouncing with excitement. "Good thing it's a Wednesday. We'd never be able to get a room on the weekend."

"Rooms, Alice: one for the girls and one for the boys." Rose insists.

Alice shakes her head and laughs. "Seriously, Rose? I'm already fucking him. Did you think I'd miss the opportunity to do it again? I'll get three rooms. The rest of you can work out who sleeps where. Come on, Jasper, let's go before that smell seeps into my clothes, it really stinks in here today."

Jasper doesn't have time to reply before Alice has pulled him back through the door.

"She's um, very …" I leave off, not sure how to phrase what I'm thinking without possibly pissing off both girls.

"She's very secure in her sexuality." Rose supplies the politically correct wording. "You should meet her mom. "

"Your step-mom?" I ask.

Rose nods while Bella smirks. "She's earthy –crunchy but Goth at the same time. If Patti Smith and Robert Smith had a child, it would be Miranda."

"She threw a body-piercing party for Alice's sweet sixteen. Jessica's mom had a fit when she came home with a belly piercing and a nose ring." Bella laughs.

"She did let her keep the belly piercing." Rose adds.

"What did you get pierced?" Emmett asks her. I inwardly groan to myself. _Wrong thing to ask, Emmett_.

"Nothing you'll ever see." She replies curtly.

"Aw, come on, roomie. You don't want to be like that." Emmett practically whines.

"Ted's your roomie, not me. Maybe if you ask him really nicely, he'll show you his piercings."

"Don't be so sure about that, I think Richie and Lori Beth may want to recreate their own Perspiration Point."

"Inspiration Point!"

"Whatever. Same difference."

"Um, we really haven't discussed that yet." Bella interrupts their banter.

I don't want any hasty decisions made now so I quickly add that we can figure that out later. I remind Emmett we have a lot to do if we're going to be ready by five. We make plans to meet at the ferry dock. I give Bella a chaste kiss that isn't nearly long enough or deep enough and we're finally out the door.

ﻝ ﻝ ﻝ

Five hours later we're finished with dinner and moving over to the outdoor patio area, which is decidedly more casual than the white-gloved service of the Commodore Room. The night has been surprisingly smooth. After the rush, of going to the bank, getting a room on Block Island, going shopping for _the proper dress required _for dinner, getting a haircut, shaving, showering, buying condoms – just in case, packing another bag for overnight in Newport, and worrying about stashing most of my cash in my room safe, it was nice to relax for the hour long ride on the high speed ferry. Unlike the big, lumbering workhorses that traveled back and forth between the mainland and Block Island, the high speed ferry was sleek, fast, and fun. Everyone was in a good mood, even Rosalie. The little I knew about Newport revolved around music- the famous annual jazz and folk festivals, and money- yacht races and mansions owned by the Vanderbilts and Astors. I didn't know Newport was also on an island, the actual namesake of Rhode Island, or that it was one of the biggest summer party towns on the East Coast.

We arrive near an old Revolutionary War fort and take a cab across to a bed and breakfast on the other side of the island. Alice made the reservations. I questioned her for a minute when we check in to the beautiful old yellow Victorian and instead of going upstairs, we're directed to a raised ranch in the back. I should have known better than to doubt Alice. The place, known as The Cottage, is divided into three large luxury suites, each with fireplaces, Jacuzzi tubs, and a large expensive looking bed. There are views of the ocean beyond. Apparently, a famous trail called the Cliff Walk runs behind the property. Alice and Jasper claim the largest of the suites as theirs. The rest of us throw our bags in another of the suites. The girls aren't ready to decide who they are staying with and I don't want to force the issue. I text Carlisle to let him know where we are staying before we take another cab down to the waterfront area where the restaurant is located and arrive just on time for our reservation. The outside of the restaurant doesn't look like much. It is one level with weather shingles and a few fancy signs.

Inside, we find a completely different atmosphere. The ambience oozes old money. While I'm somewhat used to this type of place, I wonder how well Emmett and Jasper will adapt. Jasper tugs at the collar of his dress shirt every once in a while, I know it's probably bothering his scar. We're both in ties, sport jackets and khakis. Emmett has embraced the inner WASP none of us knew he had and wears a loud madras plaid sports jacket over a polo shirt emblazoned with F/V Vampress on the upper left corner. Bright green golf pants and authentic topsiders, worn without socks, finish his ensemble. Not even Rose can think of anything to say when we first see him in that outfit. The girls have gotten off easier; all are wearing sundresses with little matching sweaters. Bella's dress is white and lacy and it's paired with a black sweater with little white flowers. Her hair is up, her lips are pink, and her natural beauty shines through. For the first time since I've met her, she has pale pink polish on her nails. She picks at them, and I can tell she's not used to wearing it. We're among the youngest patrons in the restaurant, although not the only ones. Mostly, there are older couples. They remind me of my parents and I push the thought that they'll never share another night out to the back of my mind. Dinner is a blur of side plates and main courses with Alice asking questions about how our food lived and Rose making sure medium is medium, not rare, and not well done. There are revelations like Emmett ordering duck with smoked brie and we all laugh at the thirty plus dollar price tag on the swordfish. Bella tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu and it takes all five of us to convince her to get what she wants rather than what she thinks she should have.

"Who's up for some clams on the half shell?" Emmett rubs his hands together as we sit around a table on the outside patio. The crowd here is decidedly different. Newport has a split personality. There is the old money side we just saw inside the restaurant then there is the party town outside. The bar has a live band and a good-sized crowd for a Wednesday night. Most people here are on vacation, just like on Block Island, but there are a surprisingly large number of Navy personnel as well. The girls explain that a small base plus the Naval War College are located just north of town. Jasper and I ditch our jackets and ties but Emmett refuses to take off that god awful madras sport coat.

"You should take off your jacket; you don't want to get clam juice on it." Rose repeats for the third time as she glares at him.

"Nah, I'll suck down those littlenecks so fast, I won't spill a drop."

Rose can't take her eyes off him and I'm not sure if he's an idiot or crazy like a fox.

The clams arrive and I look at them dubiously. I've never eaten raw shellfish. The others, even Alice, all dig in and I'm just staring at the plate.

"C'mon now Richie. Y'all ain't lived 'til you've sucked down a few of these babies." Emmett taunts.

I sigh, knowing I'll never hear the end of it if I don't try.

"Squeeze some lemon on it and put a little hot sauce on." Bella offers. I watch as she illustrates for me, ending by tilting her head back and bringing the clamshell to her lips to suck its contents down. It's a complete turn on and I wonder if I'll look as appealing to her if I try it.

So, I follow her instructions, tilt my head back and swallow the clam. They all watch expectantly. I try not to make a face but I know I've failed when Jasper and Emmett start laughing. That clam is the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten. Nothing, none of the stuff I ate during my fraternity's hell week, or in the two years I lived in the house, can compare to what I've just ingested.

"I feel like I just swallowed phlegm." I finally say after taking a long drink of my beer. They all laugh at me, but I don't care. I tell them I'm never eating a raw clam again.

"Poor Midwest boy can't handle it raw." Bella teases me as she sips on her margarita.

Between the wine at dinner and the beers now, I've got a buzz. I put my arm around the back of her chair and lean in close as I whisper in her ear "Let's see how well you swallow."

Her breath catches and I know she gets my not so subtle meaning. I smirk, satisfied with myself.

"You know, you could still end up with Emmett as a roommate tonight." She gives me a sideways glance.

I look over to where Emmett is dousing his clams in hot sauce. "I really hope not. I don't want to be anywhere near that ass when the flames start shooting out." I whisper back.

Bella giggles and gives me a peck on the lips. "I'm eating them too."

"I'll take my chances. Your ass is a lot nicer looking than his; I don't think it will hurt me if I get close." I joke.

Bella looks away; her eyes darting around and I can tell she is uneasy.

I gently trace her cheek with my finger, causing her to gaze up at me.

"Nothing will happen tonight unless you want it to. I'm perfectly fine with whatever you're comfortable with. I just want to wake up with you in my arms tomorrow morning."

Her body visibly relaxes as she leans into me. We stay like that for several minutes, just lost in each other, occasionally exchanging kisses, our lips soft against the other's. We're so involved in each other that we don't notice Emmett has disappeared until the singer from the band announces a special guest.

Rose's head jerks up as she splashes the last of her drink on the table.

"Please say he didn't?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, reality t.v. star Emmett McCarty!"

There is a smattering of applause, but I can tell this group has no idea who Emmett is. The music starts as Emmett, in all his madras plaid glory, grabs the mike. I know the song but I can't place it. Then it hits me.

"Oh shit." I try not to laugh, it's perfect.

"I've just had the opportunity to spend one month with the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever met. I had to be on my best behavior then but tonight, it's back to winning her heart. Rosie, this is for you."

Rose cringes, ducking down as low as she can in her chair while Emmett begins singing Bruce Springsteen's Rosalita.

"Please make him stop." She begs.

"You know what song this is?" I ask as Emmett jumps down from the stage and walks toward our table.

"Of course I do." Rose hisses. "My father is a huge Springsteen fan. I was named after the damn song."

Emmett stops in front of our table but instead of dropping to one knee like he had in the Block Island bar, he grabs Rose's hand and pulls her to her feet, just in time for the chorus.

_"Rosalita jump a little lighter  
Senorita come sit by my fire  
I just want to be your love, ain't no lie  
Rosalita you're my stone desire"_

Instead of looking at him, Rose focuses on Bella, who is still curled up in my arms. They silently communicate for a moment before Rose leans in and whispers to Emmett.

"Thank you, Newport! You've been a great crowd!" Emmett abruptly stops singing and hands the mike back to the lead singer, along with what appears to be a large wad of cash.

"What just happened?" I ask.

"Rose told Emmett that she'd stay in the same room with him if he agreed to stop singing." Bella answers, biting her lower lip as her eyes bore into mine.

Never let it be said that I don't catch on fast. "Let's get out of here."

The cab ride back to the inn is a blur of hands, mouths, and tongues. Now that we're not on an island where ninety-five percent of the population knows her and her father, Bella's normal reserve is gone and I couldn't be happier. We somehow make it from the cab. I grab our bags and move them to the last unoccupied suite in the Cottage, dropping them just inside the door. Bella lies in the middle of the bed, her dark hair contrasts with her white dress and the light blue linens of the bed. I could look at her forever but I'd rather feel her instead. I make my way to the center of the bed so that we're both lying on our sides, facing each other.

"You're so beautiful." I murmur as I capture her lower lip between mine. I sweep my tongue across her soft skin before she opens her mouth wider and our tongues entwine. One hand automatically reaches up to cup her face as the other snakes around her torso. I pull her flush against me as I rub my hard-on against her thigh. Legs separate and I've got her wrapped around me as I suck and nip at her neck. She moans and my whole body echoes with the vibration. Her dress is bunched up to her waist. I slide one hand beneath her panties to cup her bare ass while the other snakes up to lightly tease a nipple.

"Edward." My name is barely a whisper as Bella grinds against me in an erotic rhythm. I can feel her hands as they work to unbutton my shirt. Her lips follow, nipping and sucking at my clavicle and then I'm the one moaning.

"I want you."

I breathe onto her neck as my fingers circle her nipple through the fabric of her dress. My lips trace a path from her neck to her shoulder. I grab the thin strap of her dress with my teeth and drag it down, she isn't wearing a bra and her breast is right there, pale skin and pink center. My tongue first gently laves around her nipple before I suck it into my mouth. She gasps, arching her back towards me. I take that as confirmation she doesn't want me to stop. I continue to work her breasts, alternating between them with my mouth and hand. I slide the hand on her ass between her legs, pushing her panties down at the same time. I can feel her warm and wet on my hand. I circle a finger around her entrance before I slip it inside. She cries out, pushing back against my hand, trying to get me deeper. Our bodies thrust against each other while my hand sets a steady rhythm in and out of her. She tries to reach for my cock but she can't get her hand between us as we rub against one another. I break away so I can pull my pants and boxers off. My erection springs free. I'm so hard and aching for her.

"Are you sure?" I ask. I feel like I'll explode if I don't get inside her.

"Yes, I want you too." She answers as she strips off her dress. I grab a condom and hold it up.

"I made sure it's lubricated, even though I don't think you need it this time."

I can't help but be a little smug about that as I tear open the wrapper and put it on.

"You ass!" She huffs but I can tell she's not really mad. "Get over here before I change my mind."

Bella lies back on the bed and spreads her legs in invitation. I'm nearly overwhelmed by the sight of her. She is all soft curves and pale skin. I climb on top of her and kiss her deeply. My fingers rub her clit in slow circles until she is writhing and arching against me. I push two fingers inside her while I continue the circling her clit with my thumb. I can feel her muscles tighten around my fingers. I watch in rapt fascination as she comes undone beneath me, moaning and crying out. I tell her again how beautiful she looks. Her brown eyes flutter open and focus on mine.

"Edward, I want you inside me, please."

I position myself at her opening. She grabs onto my shoulders and gasps as I push inside without any problems. I let out a deep breath, relieved to finally be in her, before I start moving, slowly at first then the pace increases as we get used to the feeling of moving together. I know I won't last much longer.

"Bella, will you touch yourself?" I ask.

She is already flushed from us fucking but she turns an even deeper red.

"I want you to come again before I do." I explain. "I want to feel you come while I'm inside you."

Her eyes widen and I get the feeling no one has ever said anything like that to her before me. I like that. Slowly, she brings her hand between us and starts to rub herself. The sight alone is enough to push me over the edge and I have to still myself so I won't come.

"O.k.?" She hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, beautiful. You look so hot doing that, please come for me baby before I lose it."

I start to move again, slower this time pulling out and pushing back in as I watch her get closer and closer. I can feel her muscles contract around me as she cries out again. I thrust into her a few times before I feel my balls tighten and I come hard, the feeling washing over me in a wave of sensation. I collapse on top of her panting and covered in sweat. I roll us both over, kissing her deeply, my tongue slowly circling hers.

She pulls back and lays her head on my chest. I kiss her forehead as I caress her back. I am really drenched in sweat.

"Damn, it is hot in here."

She giggles. "Yeah, well, fireplaces tend throw heat."

"Fireplace?"

I look over and for the first time, notice the fire burning in the large hearthstone fireplace across from the foot of the bed.

I let go of Bella and get up to dispose of the condom, noticing the room for the first time. It is really nice, pale blue walls and pine furniture with subtle nautical décor. It almost looks like someplace Aunt Esme would design. I turn the a/c on high and return to bed. Bella snuggles up next to me but I don't mind since the cold air is blowing right on me. The last thing I remember is kissing her forehead before I fall into the best sleep I've had in months.

ﻝ ﻝ ﻝ

I awaken to the sound of my phone buzzing with an incoming text message. I check the time: six fifty am. Ribbons of morning light streaming through the multi-paned window to the left of the bed. I'm still drowsy as I check my phone but the words cause me to sit up straight as I read Carlisle's text a second time.

_Maguro. Be at the Cliff Walk at 7 am. _

Maguro is our password, the way I know it's really a text from him. I quickly throw on the khakis from last night and a t-shirt. I grab my cigarettes and my phone. Bella is sleeping soundly. I gently push the hair back from her face and kiss her forehead before I head outside. The Cliff Walk is only a short distance from the house. I nervously puff on a cigarette on my way down. It's a disgusting habit but smoking is a perfect companion to the monotony of setting out gear and it calms my nerves during times like this, when I don't know what's about to happen. I silently vow I'll quit if I ever get through this bullshit.

I arrive at the steps leading down to the paved path and descend until I am standing on it. I take a long drag from my cigarette and sense rather than see that someone is here.

"Hello?" I barely make a sound as the word gets stuck in my throat. I clear it and try again.

"Hello?"

"Edward." I turn to my left to see my father emerge from behind a tree. I drop the butt, cross the short distance between us and embrace him.

"I love you Dad." I choke out between sobs. I will never again take my father's presence in my life for granted.

"I love you too, Edward." He pulls back, but keeps his hands on my shoulders. "You look good. Who would have guessed you'd make a decent fisherman." He laughs but there is no levity in his voice.

I check over my father and notice the minute differences. Although most people think I look more like my mother because of my coloring, I get my jawline and other facial features from my dad. His cheekbones and chin look sharper, indicating he has lost weight. In addition, his eyes appear worn and tired.

"You're here for a reason." I state, knowing my father wouldn't risk exposing my location for a mere social visit.

He nods. "There have been developments in the negotiations between the State department and the Romanian government. It appears as though the Romanians are willing to enter the town by force and attempt to capture him. They will only do so if U.S. operatives lead the assault, unofficially, of course."

I digest this information but I'm so jaded that it fails to make an impression. "Do you know when?" I ask.

"A few months at the most. We can't risk waiting too long. The hacking attempts on government servers are occurring on a daily basis. Eventually, they will get through again."

I wince, knowing their last successful effort is what led to our current circumstances.

"Where will you be?" I ask. IRS agents aren't typically on the front lines of international elite forces operations.

"Underground and safe, I hope. Only those at the highest levels know where I am. I won't be able to contact you or Carlisle until it's over." He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, a nervous habit I know I've picked up from him.

"Can you stay here for a few minutes?"

He sighs. "Just a few."

We sit on a couple of boulders just off the path. We talk; about mom, my life on the Vampress, his efforts to stay off the grid, anything we can think of to fill in the blanks in each other's lives. I tell him about Bella.

"You know, your mother would be overjoyed. She was a hopeless romantic, always trying to match couples together. She never gave up on the idea that your Aunt Esme and Carlisle would somehow get back together, even when they themselves gave up."

I smirk, just picturing how my mom and Esme, each equally stubborn, must have argued about Carlisle.

"He's a good man. He's done so much for me."

Dad agrees. "We knew you'd be safe with him." He stands and I know our time together is over.

"When will I see you again?" I ask as I hug him.

"Hopefully soon. We have to pray this ends well. Stefan is already rotting in prison. Once Vladimir is captured or killed, the rest of his organization will fall apart." He pauses and I know he feels guilt over what happened.

"It wasn't your fault." I reassure him. "You were just doing your job. No one could have predicted this would turn out this way."

"It was supposed to be just a routine identity theft investigation. These cases were always domestic- usually, someone's wallet gets stolen with their social security card in it. I had no idea that I was going after an international organized crime figure until it was too late. Then when Stefan was captured and Vladimir came after me personally, no one had ever breached the IRS super servers before. He swore he'd destroy me and he nearly did. Your mother…" His jaw clenches as he fights for control of his emotions. "As long as you are safe, I know we will survive this. Mom would want you to live a long, happy life filled with love and that is what you'll do."

We hear footsteps approaching on the path from above. My dad places his hand on my shoulder and in the next moment he is gone. I turn just as Bella's face appears over the crest of the cliff.

"Edward? Who were you talking to?"

_A/N Yes, this is really late, but to make up for it, you get it all- romance, comedy, fluff, a true lemon ( I upped my game from the lime I was originally planning), and a bit more of the mystery revealed_. _Real life is about to become a bit hectic because it looks like we are really selling our house! Now I have to find one to buy! This situation has made the past several days insane plus the oldest is in the midst of baseball playoffs and all-stars which means he now has two teams, and there are games every single day. However, I will continue to post, it just might be more like every 10 days instead of every 7-8 and that's hopefully only for the next few weeks. Thanks again to everyone who voted for TUITML on TLS. It made it and the exposure has brought a ton of new readers so welcome to you all and thanks for putting this story on your alerts and favorites. Also, thanks to all of you who have reviewed, I will eventually respond. Find me on Twitter where you can witness my freak out about the home buying/selling process: shelly_duran (2 underscores) I will still try to post a teaser on Fictionators and A Different Forest on Monday and Fic Central next Wednesday. Check the comments section, I'm generally late for everything and this is no exception. XO Shelly _


	14. Chapter 13 Paradise

**Beta- StacyO72 – I've got nothing clever this week. She's awesome. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**_ Pretty looking road, _**

**_ Try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin_**

**_Don't ask me why I'll keep my promise, _**

**_I'll melt the ice_**

**_And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance_**

**_But fear is in your soul_**

**_Some people call it a one night stand_**

**_But we can call it paradise_**

**_Don't say a prayer for me now, _**

**_Save it 'til the morning after_**

**_No, don't say a prayer for me now, _**

**_Save it 'til the morning after_**

**– Save A Prayer, Duran Duran **

_A/N No one freak over the one night stand line above, Simon Le Bon wrote that, not me. E& B are much more than a one night stand. Save A Prayer just happens to be my favorite song ever, not just Duran song, any song. It's an exotic, erotic masterpiece. The video is what turned me from a casual fan into a Duranie: John Taylor on an elephant. Yeah, he's a bit skinny, but that smile…._

Ch. 13 Paradise

"Edward? Who were you talking to?"

I look down the flight of steps to where he is standing on the asphalt path of the Cliff Walk. There is no one else around but I know I heard Edward's voice along with another man's just a moment ago.

Edward turns and looks up at me, a blank expression on his face before he seems to realize something.

"Oh, it was just someone hiking the trail; a guy from Chicago. You know, people from other parts of the country actually like to talk to strangers." He teases, knowing the reputation New Englanders have for being unfriendly.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever"

"Rose said Rhode Island is the '_What the fuck are you looking at?'_ state." Edward says as he climbs the steps back up to where I am. His arms encircle my waist as he bends his head to place soft kisses on my neck.

I laugh and playfully try to pull away as his lips and surrounding scruff tickle my neck. He holds on tight and I'm more than happy he won't let go.

"That sounds like such a Rose thing to say. We're not all like that." I reply even though I know there is more than a bit of truth to it, even in the tourist areas like the Block and Newport. I decide this is the perfect opportunity to broach the question that has been on my mind for over a month.

"It's not like we give people an alias when we meet them." I look up at him, gauging his reaction to my words.

The bright green of his eyes darkens just a bit. He shakes his head, looks down then looks back up at me, his expression again blank.

"What do you thinks happens to kids named Edward who play the clarinet?"

I furrow my brow, confused by where he is going with this. "I don't understand."

"Squidward. Kids named Edward who play the clarinet get called Squidward, not just through elementary school, but then junior high, and even into high school. Even though I dropped clarinet in sixth grade and started playing saxophone instead, that damn nickname stayed with me. I didn't mean to confuse you. I just don't want Emmett and Jasper calling me Squidward. So, do you mind keeping that fact to yourself?" He brings one his hands forward and takes mine in his. "Please."

I nod. It's not an unreasonable story yet there's something in his eyes that makes me doubt him. I don't have any evidence to suggest he is lying, just a gut feeling, so I let it go.

We hold hands and walk back to the Cottage in companionable silence. I glance over at Edward every once in a while; still not convinced this is all real. I'm in a daze from last night. My stomach is jittery every time I think about what happened, which is pretty much every second since I woke up. I had myself convinced I wasn't going to do more than just fool around with him right up until the cab ride back to the inn. Maybe it was when his fingers brushed against my breast for the first time. Maybe it was when I shocked both of us by straddling his lap, his erection settling in just the right spot between my legs. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, so full of passion and want for me that overwhelmed all common sense. Maybe the third margarita clouded my judgment a bit, although I certainly wasn't drunk. Whatever the reason, by the time he unlocked the door to our suite, I couldn't think about anything except what it would feel like to have him inside me. It wasn't the first time in my adult life I had acted on a sexual impulse but it was the first time I did so with no reservations afterward. Maybe it was sooner than I anticipated, but sex with Edward was an experience I would never regret.

"What are you thinking about?" His question rouses me from my memories. I gaze into his eyes and immediately blush.

He opens the door to our suite, his eyes never leaving mine as I walk through into the bright open living area.

He smirks before I can even finish saying, "Last Night."

"Your blush gives you away."

I sigh as I plop down on the striped sofa. "I know; I'm an open book."

He slides down next to me. I nestle into the crook of his right arm and he rests his head in top of mine. It feels more than comfortable, it feels like we fit, like two pieces of a puzzle.

"Is this good?" He asks. I murmur a yes into his chest.

His hand slides down my back and rests at the base of my spine.

"What about last night, are you o.k. with that?" I raise my head and am surprised to see hesitation in eyes that were so confident just a moment ago. I didn't think he needed confirmation.

I slowly nod. "Couldn't you tell?"

"It's best not to assume. I'd rather hear you say it." His left hand reaches out and gently caresses mine. "You should know that I don't sleep around. If I'm…" he pauses, searching for the right word, "intimate with a girl, then there's no one else." His eyes bore into mine and I quickly digest the meaning of his words.

"So we're exclusive." I confirm.

He nods and gives me a half grin that is sexy and sweet at the same time.

"I'm not good at sharing. It must be an only child thing."

"Me either." I chew on my lip for just a moment before I give into the overpowering urge to kiss him.

We spend some time languidly exchanging soft closed-mouth kisses as our hands caress each other's bodies. I'm barely aware of my body moving closer to his until I am once again positioning myself over his lap. His hands slip under the waistband of my shorts and I can't stop the moan that escapes from me when he cups my ass. His long fingers work their way down to the place where my bottom meets the top my thighs. He follows the crease there, rubbing in long soft strokes that make me insane with desire as he each time he stops just before the spot where I want him most.

"You're driving me crazy." I pant between kisses.

"This from the girl who's not wearing any underwear. Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way."

He replies before he opens his mouth wider and our tongues circle each other.

I break free for just a moment, grab my tank top and hold it out. "This IS underwear. I'm not just wearing any clothes over it."

He chuckles and gently squeezes my ass. "And down here? Where are your panties? I don't think shorts qualify, ever if they are sexy little short-shorts."

I shrug. He's right. "Oops."

We begin kissing again, faster this time. I can't get enough of him. I hold his face between both my hands, my fingers splayed, as I kiss him as deeply as I can. He removes a hand from my ass and I feel it a moment later under my tank top. He gently traces my nipple with his thumb in a slow circular motion. I moan loudly but I don't care. I've never felt this wanton, this desirous for someone else. Edward stops his slow fingering and grasps my whole breast, palming my aching nipple back and forth. At the same time, the hand still on my ass grabs me more firmly. I can't help but arch my back towards him while my hips begin rocking against his. I'm wet and throbbing between my legs. His hard-on feels so good as I rub myself over it again and again. Our bodies synchronize our movements and each pass is a little faster, a little firmer until I am dry humping him with urgency. Edward's lips travel from my mouth, down my neck to my other breast. I can feel his tongue lick my nipple through the fabric but I want more. I grab the bottom of my tank and pull it over my head so that I'm naked and exposed from the waist up.

"Baby, you've got the most beautiful tits." He says, breathlessly before his mouth closes over a nipple. He sucks hard and I'm gasping and moaning. Every sensation magnifies. His other hands continue to grasp and rub while I shamelessly grind on top of him. In the back of my mind, I want to tell him to go get a condom so I can feel him inside me again but that would mean stopping what we're doing and I'm too far gone to stop. The ache to have him fill me is overwhelmed as all my nerves and synapses collide. I'm suddenly falling over the edge as the sensations rush through my body. I succumb to wave after wave of pleasure, crying out with abandon.

When I finally come back to Earth, I open my eyes as I lean my forehead against his. The look on Edward's face is a mixture of awe and lust.

"That was amazing. I love watching you come." He whispers before capturing my bottom lip between his for a gentle kiss.

I glance down between us. There is a damp spot on his khakis from where my shorts have soaked through. I can see the outline of his erection poking against his pants. I palm it, stroking him up and down over the cloth. He leans his head against the back of the sofa and emits a low growl.

"You didn't get off. It's my turn. Now I want to watch you come." I surprise myself with my brazenness.

His head snaps up. The look in his eyes sends shivers down my spine. His hands wrap around my waist. In one motion he stands and lifts me up. My arms and legs automatically wrap around his torso.

"Bed. Now."

It's not a command or a question, just a statement of fact. We make it into the bedroom, stripping clothes along the way until we're both naked. He lies back and I straddle him. His hands caress my hips as mine work their way down his hard planed chest, past his navel to the treasure trail. Somehow the phrase_ the drapes match the carpet _enters my mind and I giggle just as my hand reaches for his cock.

"Baby, you really shouldn't laugh when you're touching my dick."

He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, trying to ascertain what I find funny. That just makes me laugh harder. I explain between giggles and he rolls his eyes.

"I could say the same for you." Edward sits up and his hand brushes over the small triangle of hair above my sex before cupping me. His long perfect fingers circle my entrance. It feels so good but I want right now to be about him, not me. I tighten my grasp around his cock and begin firmly stroking him from base to tip and back. He falls back, relinquishing his hold on me while I repeatedly move my hand up and down his hard length. This time, I'm the one watching in fascination as his beautiful face radiates with pleasure. His eyes close and his lips part as he encourages me to continue. I want to see him come completely undone so I lean forward and my mouth replaces my hand.

"Fuck!"

Edward's eyes open wide and I can't help but get turned on as I watch him watch me. I know he's trying not to buck into me but I want him to lose control. I relax my jaw and take as much of him as I can in my mouth. He isn't just long, but thick as well. I close my eyes as I alternate between swirling my tongue around him and sucking hard while I massage his balls with my hand. I flick my tongue over the head and taste the drops of salty wetness there before I lick his shaft from the bottom back up to the top. I know he's getting close by the sexy sounds he's making and the way he's gripping the sheets like his life depends on it. He is without a doubt the sexiest, most beautiful man I have even known. I return to my pattern of licking and sucking when I'm surprised to feel his hand on my head. He gently pulls back from me.

"Bella" He pants. "Is it o.k. if I come in you again? As fucking fantastic as this is, I really want to be inside you."

"Of course." I agree as I sit up. Even after my orgasm, I was still aching to have him fill me.

"You're not too sore?" Edward's eyes narrow in concern as I slide forward. His hands trace lines from my waist, past my hips to my thighs and back up while I cup his cheek with my hand.

I shake my head. "I'm fine."

He doesn't need any further convincing. He reaches out and grabs a condom from where he dumped the box on the nightstand last night. He wastes no time rolling it onto himself. I begin to move off him when he grabs my hips and holds me in place.

"I want to watch you ride me." He rumbles in a low, sexy voice.

I shift back over so that we are aligned before I slowly lower myself on to him. I gasp at the sensation of having him fully inside me.

"Yes" Edward hisses in relief as his eyes focus on the spot where we are joined. "You feel so fucking good Bella." His hands are splayed around my hips and together we begin to move. His hands control me as I raise and lower myself onto him, my pace building faster and faster. I'm surprised to find that the fact that he is in control while I'm riding him actually turns me on even more. I lean forward and kiss him. He responds by plunging his tongue deeply into mine and I know he doesn't care that my mouth was just on his shaft. The angle hits my clit in just the right way and even though I didn't think I'd come again, I find myself getting close. I break the kiss to raise myself up and push harder against him.

"Edward , I think I'm going to come."

My breasts are right in front of his faced. He captures one with his mouth and sucks hard. Every muscle in my body contracts as I explode around him. I've never been very verbal during sex but I'm lost in the intensity of the moment as I cry epithets and curse words mixed in together. Edward comes a moment behind me, his body pulsing into mine as he shouts out my name. I collapse on top of his chest, my whole body quivering from the force of my orgasm. I listen to his heart as it slows from its frantic pace. I can feel mine also returning to normal at the same time. I smile; happy that our bodies are already so attuned to one another. Edward strokes my hair, occasionally brushing his lips against me.

"Wow."

Edward exhales into my hair. I laugh in agreement. I know exactly how he feels and I tell him as much. I'm completely sated and drowsy. I'm just about to drift off again when he shuffled out from under me and out of the bed. I protest but he just chuckles and kisses my head.

"I'm just going outside for a cigarette. I'll be right on the other side of that door." He indicates the French glass doors that lead to the stone patio behind our suite.

I sigh and roll onto my stomach as I admire his incredible body. Edward throws the condom in the trash and slips on a clean pair of jeans and tee-shirt.

"Commando?" I ask, noticing he doesn't bother with underwear.

"I don't plan on needing any once I get back." He teases and my heart melts. God, I love his smirk.

"Good. I like watching your cute naked ass." I tease back but I'm sure I ruin it by blushing. I wish I could be as confident as Rose and Alice.

Edward's smile widens. "Well thanks but I'm pretty sure if there was a cute naked ass contest in this room, you'd win." He walks back to the bed and gives me a light slap on my backside followed by a squeeze. "Yep, you win."

He saunters over to the French doors, throws them open, and lights up on the far side of the patio. He's close enough so that we can still talk to each other if we raise our voices a bit. We've just begun discussing our plans for the rest of the morning when Rose's voice rings out sharp and loud from the somewhere outside.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

There's a loud clatter of metal hitting stone. Edward's eyes meet mine as I get out of bed and scramble around for a pair of dry shorts and a top. Rose is screeching about Emmett being an ass. I reach Edward just as Emmett protests.

"Of course not! This was a romantic gesture. How could you think otherwise? It's in pretty much every goddamn chick flick you girls seem to like so much!"

"Don't presume to tell me what I like and don't like! I'm not some idiot girly-girl who can be manipulated by a trite cliché and didn't it ever occur to you that some people have food allergies?!"

Edward and I round the privacy wall that separates our patio from the suite next to ours and there are Emmett and Rose with a tray of chocolate covered strawberries scattered across the stones of the patio. They're both wearing those plush white robes that the inn provides to its patrons. Another tray containing two champagne glasses filled with what I assume to be mimosas sits on a white linen covered table.

"Oh!" I exclaim, realizing quickly exactly what has happened.

"Rose, I'm sure Emmett had no idea strawberries give you hives."

Emmett nods his head vigorously in agreement as Alice and Jasper round the corner from the opposite side of the house.

"See! C'mon Rosie. Why would I ever want to do anything to hurt you? I was just trying to do something prove I'm not like that other guy. And the hotel did such a good job- there's all different kinds and look that one even looks like it's wearing a tuxedo." Emmett points to a strawberry on the ground and damn if it isn't exactly as he said, with the white and dark chocolate decorated to look like formalwear.

"Can you please forgive my ignorance about your food allergy?" He lays on the charm, taking a hesitant step towards her and gently puts a hand on her arm.

Alice and I both cringe, ready for Rose to fling it off. Instead, she shocks us both by placing her own hand over his for just a moment. Even though her gesture is brief, its significance is not lost on any of us. I have to swallow back a gasp.

Rose never takes her eyes from Emmett. "I'm the one who should apologize. I acted irrationally. Do you forgive me?"

"How about we forget it ever happened and start over?" Emmett asks. Rose nods and gives him a peck on the cheek.

I glance over at Alice who mouths a silent _"HOLY SHIT!"_ I nod in acknowledgement. We're both floored by what we're witnessing. Jasper and Edward appear equally stunned.

Rose turns so that she can see all of us at once. "No, we're not having sex. No, we're not fooling around. We're getting to know each other, that's all for now. Emmett knows I have a hard time trusting so we are taking this one step at a time. O.k.?"

We all murmur in agreement. Jasper suggests we get to the breakfast portion of our bed and breakfast stay. We all agree to meet at the main house in thirty minutes.

Edward and I walk back over to our suite. Now that the excitement is over, I realize I'm a little tender in certain places and slow down our pace.

"You o.k.?" He puts his arm around me and looks down with concern.

"Fine."

"You're walking funny."

"I'm just a little sore."

He looks confused until he has the lightbulb moment and realizes why I'm sore.

"Oh. Was I … I mean, I wasn't too, I mean I didn't think about …" He's flustered and adorable.

I give him a peck on the lips as we walk back into the bedroom. "You were perfect. It's just been a while."

"Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?"

I reassure him I'm fine but then my eyes settle on the Jacuzzi in the bathroom. I tilt my head towards it "Will you join me?"

Twenty minutes later, I'm lying in his arms as we lean back and languidly watch the clouds through the enormous skylight just above the Jacuzzi. We've spent the time talking mostly about music, kissing, and just enjoying being close to one another.

"I never want to move." I sigh.

Edward kisses my shoulder. "Me either." His hand is making lazy circles around my nipple but it's somehow less sexual and more intimate, as though he's trying to memorize me.

"Did you still want to get breakfast?" I ask, as I bring my arm up behind me to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

He hums into my hair. "You're making it really difficult but I suppose we have to. I doubt the others will leave us alone if we don't make it up there."

"True." I sigh.

We procrastinate for a few minutes more before finally extracting ourselves from our warm water cocoon. We make our way up to the old Victorian mansion that serves as the main building for the inn. The smells and sounds of breakfast greet us as soon as we open the door and I suddenly realize I am famished. As we make our way towards the dining room, I notice Edward hesitate out of the corner of my eye. I turn to see him looking at an antique upright piano in the corner of the old fashioned parlor. He catches my eye and smiles but that sad look is back in his eyes. I don't get the chance to ask him about it because Alice is by my side leading us both to a long table where the others are waiting. Edward and I grab our plates and make our way through a full breakfast buffet. As soon as I am seated Alice plunks a glass of ruby colored liquid in front of me.

"I got this for you Bella. It's one hundred percent juice with no added sugar or corn syrup."

"Cranberry juice, my favorite." I try not to roll my eyes. I've been through this routine with Alice and her mom Miranda before.

"You're welcome!" Alice smiles and winks before leaning in and whispering "You should drink at least two glasses."

I sigh but don't argue. The last thing I want is for Alice to mention urinary tract infections in front of everyone. I look over to where Rose is slapping Emmett's hand as he steals bacon from her plate.

"Rosalie, what are you going to do now that you finished your assignment on the Vampress?" I ask, knowing everyone will focus on her answer.

Rose looks over at me, allowing Emmett to finish the rest of her bacon. "I haven't received the final confirmation yet but it looks like I'll be on the Predator next."

"Captain Chaos?!" Emmett and Jasper both laugh.

Rose looks confused. "What are you laughing at?"

Jasper shakes his head. "The idea of you and Chaos butting heads for the next month."

Emmett cuts in "Yeah, he is a world-class prick. Y'all ever seen the anti-Chaos t-shirts? It says Chaos with a red circle with a line through it. I got one. I guess I'll need to dig it out."

Rose turns to me. "Have you ever met him?"

I nod. "Once last summer. Don't call him Chaos to his face. He hates that. His name is Caius. He's one of the Volterra brothers." I pause before adding "And he is a real prick."

Rose sighs while glancing sideways at Emmett. "Great. I just finish one assignment with a jackass on board and I'm going straight to another."

Emmett doesn't miss a beat as he finishes shoveling his breakfast down. "C'mon Rose, don't talk about Doc like that. He's not even here to defend himself."

Rose throws her napkin at him but she returns his dimpled smile with one of her own. We joke and tease for a bit before making plans to check out and get to the ferry dock so that we'll be back on the Block by the time the Vampress offload is set to begin. The six of us are the last people in the dining room. I see Edward glance across to the piano again.

"Will you play something?" I ask him. He looks startled for a moment, an array of emotions passing over his face before he agrees.

"If it's in tune I will."

The two of us walk over to the old upright. Although I know nothing about pianos, I admire its beautiful carved legs and dark finish. We sit down next to each other on the bench. Edward tests it out, playing a few scales and it sounds rich, filling the room with the notes. The others walk over and it strikes me that they have no idea that _Ted_ is a musician. He launches into a pretty classical piece that sounds vaguely familiar but I don't know much about that style of music. Edward's fingers move effortlessly over the keys. The song ends, the last notes lingering in the air. The silence that follows is interrupted by Emmett clapping and shouting out "Freebird!"

The laughter that follows subsides.

"What else can you play, Ted? Anything we'd know?" Jasper asks.

Edward scrunches his face, as he thinks. "How about this?"

He launches into Coldplay's _Clocks_ and then morphs into_ Speed of Sound_ followed by a few more pop songs I recognize.

"No country?" Jasper jokes as he leans against the old upright.

Edward grins and launches into _Sweet Home Alabama_. "Better?"

"Well, technically that's Southern Rock but I'll take it." Jasper grins.

Edward thinks for a minute. "How about this one."

I don't know much about country but Jasper nods. "Clint Black, _Like the Rain_, good choice."

"No Dixie Chicks?" Emmett pouts a little.

Edward pauses, his fingers above the keys before he starts playing _Landslide_. Emmett wags a figure.

"Nope. That's a remake, doesn't count."

Edward stops mid note, readjusts his fingers then starts playing something else. Emmett starts singing "_Cowboy Take Me Away_." As he grabs Rose by the waist and spins her around.

"Let me go, you big oaf." She's laughing though so I know she doesn't mind.

After that Alice requests _Love Song_ by Sara Bareilles which he again plays effortlessly. I'm floored by not only how well he plays but the breadth and scope of what he knows.

"How do you know so many songs?" I finally blurt out when he again switches to Blur's _Song 2_.

He grins. "I worked in a piano bar last summer, you know dueling pianos, lots of Billy Joel and Elton John and of course this…"

He launches into _Brown-eyed Girl_. I roll my eyes and he laughs.

"I can pretty much play by ear but you're required to know certain songs. There are tricks to it too, you don't have to know as many songs as you think, a lot have similar chord structures. You're basically playing the same twenty songs night after night too. Everyone wants to hear _Piano Man_ when they're at a piano bar."

We listen to him play a few more songs and I find myself falling even harder. He looks so irresistible, his head bent over the keys for as he focuses on plays chords, the harmonies and melodies flowing from his fingers. I want to lean over and feel the muscles of his back as they flex and loosen according to his movement over the keys. I'm not sure if that will disturb his playing though, so I refrain from touching him.

"Crap! We only have an hour before we have to be at the ferry!" Alice looks up from her cell phone and grabs Jasper's hand. They are followed by Emmett and Rose but Edward and I stay at the piano.

"So what would you play if you had your choice?" I ask, curious about his own tastes.

"Hmmm, something like this." Edward begins playing a soft melody. I think maybe I've heard it before but I'm not positive. He surprises me by singing, his voice low and raspy yet sweet.

"_I plant the kind of kiss_

_ That wouldn't wake a baby _

_On the self-same face_

_The wouldn't let me sleep  
And the street is singing with my feet _

_And dawn gives me a shadow _

_I know to be taller_

_All down to you dear_

_ Everything has changed" _

Our eyes meet and I know I'm drowning in him but I don't care. I don't care that I know almost nothing about Edward, that there are questions I haven't asked that I should. All the warnings about getting involved with transient guys like him are now meaningless because he is the only other person in my universe. Edward sings on but I can barely hear him over my heart's pounding. He repeats the chorus and this song is my new favorite. He segues into another verse and the words reach my heart.

_And we took the town to town last night_

_ We kissed like we invented it_

_ And now I know what every step is for_

_ To lead me to your door _

_Know that while you sleep_

_Everything has changed_

_You make the moon our mirrorball _

_The street's an empty stage_

_The city's sirens, violins_

_Everything has changed_

_Everything has changed_

_Everything has changed  
So lift off love _

_Lift off love (All down to you dear) _

_Lift off love (All down to you dear)_

He repeats the ending, each time the words and music becoming softer until it finally fades into silence. The air feels heavy. I am weighed down. I can't stay upright so I collapse into his arms. "That was beautiful. Did you write it?" I murmur into his shoulder.

He chuckles. "I wish. It's called _Mirrorball_ by the British band Elbow. Have you heard of them?"

I tilt my head, unsure. "The name sounds sort of familiar."

"They are much bigger in the U.K. than they are here." He answers. "They're less mainstream than Coldplay, their songs are more complex and intricate."

"Which is why you like it?" I ask. Edward nods.

I pull back from him. "Will you play me something you wrote?"

He hesitates and that same sadness overtakes him.

"You don't have to …" I backtrack.

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine.

He begins playing with an intensity I've yet to see. The notes of the song are sweet and light yet somehow combined together, there is a deep sadness in the melody. The notes finish and I'm left with an ache, as though I've lost something. Edward's face is set in a tight line. He clenches his jaw as if by doing so he could hold all his emotions inside. This time, I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around him.

"Will you tell me about it?"

He doesn't say anything for the space of a minute. Finally, he raises his eyes and I can see they are moist. "I wrote that for my mother. The last time I played it was at her funeral. She was killed three months ago."

_A/N So, a lot going on this chapter. Next chapter will also be BPOV and there should be a teaser ready for Monday for Fictionators and A Different Forest but probably not today for Fic Central. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, even if it's just to tell me you're reading. Reviews make me happy. By the way, the inspiration for the inn is The Cliffside Inn in Newport, RI. I haven't stayed there but I've heard great things. The inspiration for Rose's strawberry allergy is yours truly. Every time I read or watch a scene involving strawberries dipped in chocolate, I just want to gag. For those in the U.S. who haven't heard of Elbow, check them out. I first found them when I mentioned that I liked Coldplay to a friend in the U.K. and she proceeded to tell me exactly what she thought of Coldplay, and recommended Elbow instead. _

_On the house front- well, the first deal fell through but we just signed another agreement yesterday! Now we have 30 days to find a house; so fingers crossed, everything will work out. _


	15. The Masshole Meets the Hippie Chick

**Beta****- StacyO72 - She managed to pull herself away from #DiorRob long enough to read through this. Any mistakes are completely because of Robert Pattinson's hotness. How can anyone remember grammar rules when that video is playing on repeat? **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**.

**Outtake: The Masshole and the Hippie Chick**

_A/N I felt the need to celebrate hitting 500 reviews, which is amazing and I can't thank you all enough so I decided to celebrate by posting an outtake. _

_Due to a variety of things that happened over the last month, this took a lot longer than I anticipated. _

_Most of you know what happened with my TLS Angst contest entry, so I won't go into it again. If you don't know, just click on my name, and take a look at my other story, Irrevocable Trust, that is now posted._

_ In other news, we are moving forward with the house stuff. I think we were on buyer no. 2 the last time I posted. That fell apart so we're up to buyer no. 3 and we've also found a house. The next six weeks or so before we move should be insane, especially when you add in work and social obligations too. _

_Anyway, thank you for your patience. For those wanting more of Doc's backstory, here is an outtake of Carlisle and Esme's first meeting in a club somewhere near Gloucester, Massachusetts in the summer of 1990. This might seem familiar if you're of a certain age (mine). For others, you might need to google things like Milli Vanilli and Zima and then remind me that I'm old enough to be your mother, or even older than your actual mother. (cough*Lellabeth*cough)_

_ There is a Spotify playlist for this chapter, as well as most of the other chapters too. The link for this one is http(colon)/__ t._co /EJgVpSI2QG 

_PM me if it doesn't work or if you want the other playlists. _

_Masshole = Asshole from Massachusetts _

The pounding opening beat of a re-mix of _Girl You Know It's True _reverberates through the smoky room. The crowd cheers and begins to call back to each other: first "Milli" then "Vanilli". Strobe lights illuminate dancers seemingly frozen in place for a brief moment in time. Bodies bump and grind as girls dressed in wasp waist mini-skirts and cut-off tops entice guys in acid wash jeans and muscle shirts. Everywhere I turn I see big hoop earrings under long spiral perms, and gold chains beneath fade-aways, or worse, mullets. The air is rank with the fetid mixture of cigarettes, alcohol, Drakkar Noir, Dior Poison and sweat. This is _soooo_ not my scene.

I watch my two remaining travel companions, Maggie and Siobhan, dance with a couple of Massholes they picked up at the bar. I wish Ray was still with us but she met someone last week when we were on Nantucket and decided to stay with him. Ray was a little flaky but at least we had similar tastes in music. If she were here we could dump this meat market and find a nice indie bar whose idea of dance music is more Depeche Mode/Pet Shop Boys and less Bell Biv DeVoe/Vanilla Ice. I sigh before I take another sip of my drink. There are tons of indie bars in Boston but we're outside the city, in the no man's land between it and the New Hampshire border, because one of the girls wants to visit Salem tomorrow. As I turn my head away from the dance floor, I see a guy with short blonde hair approaching me. He's more than just handsome; he's got matinee idol looks. Everything about him is chiseled perfection. Unfortunately, it's obvious from his swagger that he's well aware of it. He stops in front of my table and gives me a mega-watt smile.

"Hey, I'm Carlisle. Can I buy you another Zima?"

I take a closer look at him. He's dressed in faded jeans that look authentically ripped rather than the kind guys buy at Structure, and a heather grey to-shirt with a small boat embroidered in the left corner, above his heart. His clothes fit well. He has a nice body, nice tan, and bright blue eyes set in a face that would be almost too pretty for a man if he didn't have such a masculine chin.

I glance down at my almost empty bottle of the clear malt beverage we had all ordered. It is supposed to be the big new thing but girly beer really isn't my style. I see this Carlisle guy is holding a bottle of authentic beer in his hand.

"Actually," I answer "I'll have what you're having."

He holds up the bottle. I recognize Paul Revere as the figure holding a pewter tankard at the center of the blue label.

"Are you sure? I'm drinking a Sammy lager. Most girls don't like a full-bodied beer."

He's got a thick Boston accent which somehow makes him even more attractive to me. I like the Northeast. Everyone talks fast and acts tough. It's so different from the polite mid-western manners of Ohio. I've never heard of a Sammy before but I know what I like in a beer.

"Yes," I respond. "Full-bodied is just what I'm looking for."

He smirks as his eyes rake over me, blatantly lingering too long on my chest.

"That's good. I always prefer full-bodied."

I reflect on my own appearance. I'm wearing a low-cut sleeveless black body suit under a floral tapestry vest and basic black mini skirt. I'm showing a bit more cleavage than usual but I'm not ashamed to give the girls a bit of air. Still, the way he looks at me makes me feel as though he can see right through the fabric. I should be offended but I'm not. Instead, I'm intrigued.

He sits down next to me and hails a passing waitress, asking her for two more. She leaves and he turns his ice blue eyes back to me as he graces me with another panty dropping smile.

"So what's your name?"

I hesitate. Usually, I introduce myself as Mimi in bars. It's easier for people to understand. I carefully pronounce my full name. "Esme."

He sits back in his chair; his legs sprawl out in front of him. "Esme? That's different. Family name?"

I nod, embarrassed that I didn't just go with Mimi. "My great-grandmother."

He smiles again and damn, he's got dimples. "Me too, I mean I was named Carlisle after my great-grandfather. I like Esme. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

I roll my eyes. This guy is a piece of work, a hot piece of work, but still, I can't let him think I'll just fall all over him because of a few clichés.

"Too bad your pick-up lines aren't."

He widens his eyes in surprise for just a moment before he recovers his cool. "It's only a line when it's not true."

He winks as he takes a drink from his beer. He actually winked! I shake my head and against my better judgment, smile at his audacity. The waitress returns with my own beer, placing it in front of me as she removes the Zima. I take a sip of the beer, which is good, much more robust than the usual Bud Light. I glance down at the bottle and make note of the name, Samuel Adams Boston Lager. I see Carlisle take out a wad of money and I almost choke as I watch him unroll several hundred-dollar bills before finally getting to a twenty. The waitress has barely given him the change and walked away when I blurt out

"Are you a drug dealer?"

Carlisle gives me an incredulous look and laughs. "What?"

I feel my face redden. It was a stupid thing to say, as if he'd admit such a thing if it were true.

"Sorry, I'm just surprised you have so much cash on you."

He smiles widely. "Ah. I gotcha. Sorry, I'm just a commercial fisherman, nothing nefarious or glamorous."

He turns over the roll of bills before he puts it back in his pocket.

"I work for my father. Our boat landed this morning so you're looking at my pay for the last four days of work."

I exhale, relieved to know that he isn't some sort of criminal.

"Is that a summer job?"

"No. Full-time. I've been fishing almost my whole life. My dad owns a dragger. Do you know what that is?"

I shake my head. "I don't know anything about fishing," I confess.

Carlisle moves his chair closer to mine and spends the next few minutes explaining the different ways to catch fish. Much to my surprise, I'm actually fascinated as he describes his hometown of Gloucester and life at sea as a fisherman. I find out we're the same age but college was not something that interested him. He had spent his entire life preparing to be a commercial fisherman and he started working full-time as soon as he graduated from high school. The music continues to pulse and throb around us as I discover that MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice are far more palatable when there's a very cute, interesting guy sitting next to you. His smooth edge is still there but I can see the genuine spark in his eyes while he teaches me the distinction between gillnetting and trawling. I have no idea how much time passes, as we talk and drink and flirt. We flirt a lot. He has that natural charisma that makes you feel like you're the most special, most unique girl in the world, even though he's the one exuding all the charm. Eventually, last call is announced and a few minutes later the lights come back on. It feels much too soon.

I see my traveling companions approaching. They are both wrapped up in the guys they've been dancing with tonight.

"Hey Doc!" The one with the mullet and the Fu Manchu mustache calls out. He and Carlisle shake hands and it's apparent that these two are fishermen as well.

"Doc?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, when they are done greeting each other.

Before Carlisle can respond, the short, barrel-chested guy answers. "This fucker is the best damn cutter I've ever seen. He can fillet like six flounder in a minute. It's insane! He's like a damn brain surgeon with a knife."

I have no idea if that's good or not, but based on the guys' looks of awe, I'd guess it is. Honestly, I'm not sure I even know what kind of fish a flounder is.

Carlisle smirks at me as he holds his hands out in front of him. "I've been told I've got very skilled fingers."

I roll my eyes as we make our way towards the outside. "I bet."

This time he raises an eyebrow. "I'd be more than happy to prove it to you."

I wish I could say my body didn't react to his words but it did. Still, I carefully guarded my reaction so that Carlisle wouldn't realize the effect he has on me.

"Hey Doc, how you going to do that? We can't get any flounder this time of night," his other friend interjects.

" Liam's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

Carlisle lightly hits him on the back of the head. I laugh and the mood between us lightens instantly.

"I'm starving!" The first guy pipes up, his heavy Massachusetts accent eliminating the_ R_ and the _G_. "Let's get some food."

He slings his arm around Maggie the girl with the curly red hair that she insists is natural even though it obviously isn't when compared to Siobhan's.

Thirty minutes later we sitting in a booth of an antiquated looking diner eating the best pastries I've ever had in my life. There are huge coffee rolls oozing cinnamon and donuts of every variety- frosted, powdered, glazed, and sprinkled.

Maggie and Joe are feeding each other pieces of coffee roll while Siobhan and the other guy, Liam, have bonded about Ireland and are now sucking face in the corner of the booth. I get the distinct feeling that we won't be making it to Salem in the morning.

I absent-mindedly lick the glaze off my fingers. I glance up and catch Carlisle gaping at me from across the small booth. I might take a second or five longer than necessary to finish swiping my tongue over my fingers. I smirk as I look down to grab another piece of donut with my right hand. Before I can, I feel someone grasp my left. My eyes flash up just as Carlisle's mouth encircles my index finger, gently sucking as his tongue sweeps over the digit. I do my best not to squirm as my body immediately responds to him but I know I've failed when he releases my fingers and smirks back at me.

"You missed a spot," he states in a low voice.

"You could have just handed me a napkin, " I try to keep my tone cool and neutral. He still has a hold on my hand and he is massaging it in such a way that I can only imagine what his fingers would feel like on other parts of my body. I abruptly pull my hand back over the worn Formica top of the table.

He chuckles. "What fun would that be?"

I roll my eyes. "I bet you know all about having fun."

He raises his eyebrows, surprised by the edge in my voice. "Doesn't everyone like to have fun?"

"Having fun anytime, anywhere is reckless. Some people only like to have fun with those they genuinely care about," I reply.

Carlisle raises his chin slightly in the direction of Siobhan and Liam who are gazing into each other's eyes. "Sometimes you need to be a little risky if you want to find that person."

I snort indelicately. "Sometimes, people don't care about the difference between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now."

Carlisle fixes me with a penetrating gaze, as though he can see inside my head. "A person shouldn't dismiss Mr. Right just because he happens to be Mr. Right Now. Sometimes there is no difference between the two."

I pause, my reply that sometimes Mr. Right Now will say anything to convince someone they are Mr. Right is there on my tongue but I don't say it aloud. Instead, I merely shrug my shoulders.

Joe chooses this moment to ask Carlisle about their next fishing trip. I learn they will be leaving in just a few hours and returning in about three days' time. Much to my shock, Maggie and Siobhan are agreeing to meet them in a bar up in Gloucester when they dock. We finish our food and head outside to the gravel parking lot. The three of us are at the end of our adventure, having left Amherst behind after graduation. We started out, four including Ray, in the York Beach section of Maine and traveled around through New Hampshire, Vermont, the Berkshires, Connecticut, Rhode Island then finally the Cape, the Islands, where Ray left us for that guy, and now here. It's been about six weeks and there's still plenty of summer left. I have no definite plans for afterwards. I've sent resumes to a few interior design firms in Boston and the other major cities in the Northeast. I'd love be close to my best friend Lizzie and her husband Ed but they live in New York City and I'm not sure if that's the right place for me. I don't want to return to small town Ohio either. I want someplace unique, progressive, and small enough where you aren't just another faceless, nameless body. I'm roused from my musings as Carlisle asks me if I'll also be at the bar in Gloucester.

He's standing too close to me, leaning in with a look on his face that gives me tingles in certain places. I try to answer but he's brushing my hair away from my face with the back of his hand and I can't remember how to speak. So instead, I nod, I try to act nonchalant. I take a small step back and clear my throat.

"Well, obviously, it's not like I have a choice. Where they go, I go."

"So if we can get them on board for the trip, you'll come too?" He grins, looking like the proverbial cat that caught the canary.

"What?"

I whip my head towards Maggie and Siobhan, who are paying me no attention, both involved with their respective love interests. Panic shoots through my belly.

"We aren't allowed on the boat, are we? I mean, isn't there some sort of training or something we'd need; an insurance requirement, maybe swimming lessons?"

Carlisle laughs. He looks younger than his age at this moment and I realize he is teasing me. I can suddenly picture him as a Mark Twain character putting a frog down a girl's back or maybe dipping her hair in an inkwell.

"You ass!" I swat him on the arm. I try to ignore how hard his biceps are but still, I know. I let my hand linger there.

"You should see your face! You look terrified! It must be that you can't swim? It couldn't possibly be that you wouldn't want to spend three days with me?" Carlisle places his hand over mine and just like that we're holding hands. His thumb lightly massages my fingers.

"I can get from one end of the pool to the other just fine." I retort.

Carlisle raises an eyebrow. "Feet not touching the bottom?"

"I said I can swim!"

"No, Esme. You said you could get from one end to the other." He looks so cheeky and cute that I can't stay mad.

"O.k. I can dog paddle but I hate to put my face in. I get panicky when I'm underwater," I confess, dropping my head and watching as his thumb makes small circles over each knuckle. "When I was four an older cousin came up behind me and dunked me. I had my mouth open and I swallowed a ton of water. I thought I was going to drown. I can still remember that feeling of not being able to breathe, of my lungs filling with water instead of air. I've been terrified of drowning ever since. I don't feel comfortable being surrounded by water."

He nods and pulls me into his arms. "I want you to feel comfortable." He leans down and I feel his hand on my chin, tilting it up towards his face. He's so much taller than me. I raise myself up on my tiptoes to meet him. His lips slide softly over mine, once, twice in a gentle kiss as his hand moves from my chin to the back of my neck. He breaks the kiss leaning his forehead against mine. Our lips are separated by only a millimeter of space.

"O.k?" He asks; his breath warm against my mouth. I nod, again unable to remember how to speak. Our lips meet once more as his hand slides to the side of my neck. I can feel his thumb caress my cheek as I lose myself in the sensation of kissing him. My hands are pressed up against his chest, and I'm completely encircled in the safety of his arms. I can't help but sigh softly when I feel his tongue touch mine. He tastes of cinnamon and maybe a little beer and even just a hint of ocean. I never want to stop but some small sensible part of me realizes we are still standing in the diner parking lot of some hinterland Massachusetts town in that strange time of day between darkest night and earliest morning. We finally end the kiss. Carlisle steps back and looks down into my eyes, his hands on either side of my face.

"You'll come to Gloucester? We'll be back Tuesday. Meet us at the bar. Your friend has the address. Please?"

"Yes." I'm out of breath but I managed to whisper a reply.

"Promise me, Esme?" He asks. "Otherwise, I will take you onboard with me, even if I have to keep you in the fish hold."

He smirks and I giggle.

"Yuck! I promise. I'll wait for your ship to come in."

"It's a boat."

"Whatever."

"Technically, it's a western rig otter trawler."

"Again, whatever." I roll my eyes.

He kisses me again, his lips firm against mine until Joe pulls him away.

"C'mon, boat's leaving in less than two hours."

I watch as the other boys climb into a brand new cobalt blue convertible Corvette, leaving the driver's seat empty. I hadn't really paid attention on our way from the club to the diner.

"Aren't Vettes two-seaters?" I ask.

"Yep, don't worry, Liam's skinny enough to fit in the little space back there."

"You're driving?"

"Yeah, it's my car."

"You own that?" I point and my voice rises of its own accord.

"Yep, she's all mine. I'll take you for a drive when I get back, if you want."

I nod absentmindedly. "You're sure you're not a drug dealer?"

"Nope, just a boring fisherman," he laughs then kisses me again before he lowers his long body into the driver's seat.

"Wait for me Tuesday. I'll see you when we get into port."

I nod my head, suddenly worried. "You'll be o.k. out there?"

He smiles, completely relaxed. "Of course, I was born to be on the water. I'm a Gloucesterman."

He starts the car and backs out. "I swear, I'll be back soon, " He calls out before shifting the purring engine into drive.

I watch as he speeds down the road, suddenly aware that I will spend the next three days worried about someone I didn't know six hours ago.

_A/N Follow me on Twitter: shelly_duran (2 underscores) and don't forget to leave me some love. Reviews make me feel like Esme when Carlisle kisses her. Feel free to pimp me like a Vegas whore if you like what you're reading. _


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